The Price of Face
by Hey Lady Hey
Summary: Bif finds marks on Derby’s neck. Derby refuses to tell him about that night. That one incident puts the whole clique into turmoil.[Bif.Derby] [Last chapter is up!]
1. Marks

Title: The Price of Face

Rating: For now, T, will get to M.

Warning: Suggestive Themes, swearing

Summary: Bif finds marks on Derby's neck. Derby refuses to tell him about that night. That one incident puts the whole clique into turmoil.(Bif/Derby) (Sequel to Prep Vandalized.)

* * *

Derby stood in his room, facing the full-length mirror he had. He had stripped off his auqaberry shirt and vest, standing naked from the waist up. He trailed a finger over the few small red marks on his neck. Presents from a certain Greaser. He frowned, tapping one of the bigger ones that was near his jaw.

His eyes wandered up, to his cheek. It was a dark, bluish black bruise. That had come from the merciless wooden board, the repeated slaps from Johnny. His right cheek had bursted into a palate of black and blue the day after, and there was barely any way to conceal them. There was makeup applied to reduce the serious look to it, but it reminded him of Tom Gurney and sent his blood boiling.

The bruise wouldn't fade for a while… He took a tissue from the top of his dresser, rubbing on his neck to make sure he wiped all of the makeup off of his neck.

He crumpled the tissue in his hands, turning suddenly and throwing it into the trashcan. For a week now, he had to apply concealer onto the angry looking marks, so as not to arise suspicion from the other Preps. It would be his downfall to have others see such a vulgar display of weakness on his neck. Tad would no doubt take the chance to challenge his authority over the group, and inner fighting would not be a pleasant thing right now, especially since other things were threatening them; like Hopkins, and the Greasers.

'_Well_, Derby thought sullenly, running a hand through his immaculate hair. _'It was either use cosmetics or pretend that popped collars were the new style of the season… which is more hideous, I really don't know…'_ He wrinkled his nose, regarding himself in the mirror with an air of contempt. After a few seconds of self-loathing glares, he turned away, starting to undress.

The night after the incident, Derby threw out the clothes involved. His favorite pair of underwear… it was a shame, really, but the thought of wearing something that had touched Vincent so intimately made him sick.

Just looking at the black leather belt snaked around his waist brought his thoughts back, and Derby hurried to undress, not taking the time to fold his clothes and place them in the hamper like he usually did. Everything was discarded to the ground, and he turned toward the second door that led from his expansive room, pushing it open.

Derby had the biggest room at the Harrington House, and his own personal bathroom. While it was a little too small for his tastes, and only had a shower, no bathtub, it was still not half-bad for school accommodations. Not up to Prep standards, but it would do.

The opened the glass door, stepping inside the shower and closing it behind him. He reached for the shower nozzle, turning it on and setting it so it was nearly too hot for his skin. He let out a sigh as the water streamed down, tilting his head forward slightly and closing his eyes. The glass door almost immediately started to fog from the heat.

The hot water was too much for his cut, and Derby winced in pain, his eyes snapping open as hot water ran down his head. "Bloody hell-" He turned the heat down, gingerly reaching back with the other hand to feel where the stitches were.

10. 10 stitches in his head. The wound he had suffered from the glass case was, fortunately, minor. Just a few small shards of glass had gotten into his noggin. Just a flesh wound. Still, it was one of the more painful experiences he had ever had. The fact the doctor nearly tried to shave part of his head was bad enough, but the fact that even though his hair covered it, and yet it was still faintly visible if one looked closely, was even worse.

He had a hard time explaining that. He could have explained the rest of the office, and the downstairs tables and chairs away as someone had came in after he was gone to wreck havoc. That would have been easy. Even the nasty bruise could be explained dismissively as his own carelessness at cleaning up- he had tripped in the dark, fell to the floor. Explaining a head wound, however, was not. Wounds of that nature did not happen on their own, and it took a good while before Derby managed to walk out of the Glass Jaw Boxing Club with his head held high and a scheme in his head.

"Oh, Mummy," Derby was wide-eyed, holding onto her manicured hand tightly. "It was _terrible_. I was cleaning up, because of that horrible maid…" (Who, coincidently, was fired right after.) "Having to stay for at such a late time… it was an ill-conceived idea, but a Harrington must do what he must. And if that means he must clean his office, so it must be done…"

His mother nodded sympathetically, promising her son free use of the credit card until he so desired.

"But, oh! It was so terrible." Derby paused dramatically. "I was just locking up the trophy cabinet, you see, after making sure everything was in order. I turn around, just in time to see one of those public school wretches swing at me with a baseball bat! I must have lost consciousness once I hit the cabinet, and that's when they came in and destroyed some things before leaving…" He sighed sadly. "I woke up with a bleeding head, cold and alone…"

Derby snorted in the shower. His mother had snapped the story up without a second question, and all of the other Preps understood. While being beaten by a Greaser was humiliating and personal, the public school children were foreign and unknown. It was a different situation; instead of bringing animosity, it brought sympathy and understanding.

He let out a long-winded sigh, pressing his face against the wall and letting the water run down his back. Once the welts were gone, this would all be a thing of the past. Just a small hiccup in his otherwise seamless life.

There were suddenly warm, dry hands pressed against his waist, and Derby panicked for a split second, irrational thoughts spilling into his head. _'It's Vincent, isn't it, Vincent's come-'_ And he jabbed his elbow backwards, catching the intruder in the gut.

"Derby!" The breath was forced out of Bif; he hadn't expected such a hostile welcome. Derby pulled away from his grasp, turning around. The look of cold fear quickly mellowed out into recognition.

"Ah, you should have knocked, Bif." Derby said sternly, looking the taller prep over. Tall and stocky, with auburn hair and green eyes, he could easily overcome him in a battle of fists. But Bif was his second-hand man, behind him in everything he did. Derby was the witty, smug leader; Bif was his brawn and undying support that leaders like him fed off of.

It was no wonder that they were 'friends with benefits'. It was like they needed each other to survive in the hellhole known as Bullworth.

Bif smiled gently. "I'm sorry. I didn't think; you must be a bit tense after that incident.."

Derby glared icily at him. "I think _anybody_ would be surprised after suddenly finding another person with them in the shower, don't you agree?"

He had struck a nerve, and Bif nodded quickly, realizing his mistake. "Actually, now that you mention it," He smiled charmingly. "I would have done the same, also. I apologize."

"Apology accepted." Derby said, a bit stiffly even as Bif wrapped his arms around his waist, kissing the back of his neck. Derby reached back, grabbing the back of Bif's head and pulling him forward for a kiss. He smelt faintly like sweat. When the kiss broke, Derby reached for the washcloth.

"You were at the boxing ring?"

"Yes," He looked a little sullen. "We had that contest, you remember?"

"Mm-hmm." Derby started to soap himself up, only listening half-heartedly.

"Well, a certain someone barges in right before Parker and Chad were to have a go." Bif said, leaning against the wall of the shower and watching Derby. "It's that squinty boy, you must remember him- Gord invited him to the boxing club, after that incident where he beat Russel."

Derby shook his head, pausing in his washing. "Squinty…? Do you mean Jimmy Hopkins?"

"Correct."

"He has such _horrible_ taste in people. First Lola, because he swore the leopard print coat may or may not be vintage Chanel, and he just had to find out… and now, inviting riff-raff into the Club!"

"Yes, yes," Bif interjected right when Derby paused for a breath. If he let him, the other would go on forever ranting about Gord and his poor behavior. "But, as I was saying, Hopkins struts into the Gym, signing up for the contest. I, of course, only watched, as our family already has three houses… but, Hopkins actually won!" Derby arched an eyebrow at him. "He beat Chad in one round, and didn't even break a sweat the entire time!"

"Interesting…" He tossed the washcloth at Bif. It hit his bare chest with a wet slap, and he nearly dropped it. "Now, you can stop talking about peasants, and actually start cleaning yourself." Bif smiled lightly, moving up behind Derby and wrapping his arms around his waist, dropping the wash cloth on the tile.

He placed a few light kisses on his neck. "Who said I came in here to get clea….n" He word trailed off, and he paused, pressing a finger against one of the marks on Derby's neck. He hissed swatting at him.

"What are you…?"

Bif looked like he had been punched in the face by Derby: shocked and a little sad. He looked his whole neck over, and he suddenly seemed to bristle a little, his expression going hard as he touched another mark. "Who…?"

Derby swatted his hand, pulling away from Bif's touches. "Pinky." He replied quickly, holding a hand to his neck. Bif would drop it at her name. He realized that she was his going to be his bride one day, and that public appearance was something he needed to upkeep. Tonguing each other every once in awhile was common.

"Five hickeys? From Pinky?" Bif asked, not sounding the least bit like he believed him. "I… I don't think even Johnny Vincent would be dull enough to believe that." He said scathingly. Pinky was different. Having to endure the swollen lips and the lipstick prints on collars was mandatory for him, just another occurrence. But hickeys? This was not the work of Pinky Gauthier. It was too un-ladylike.

Bif took a step forward, the cold still in his voice. "Who was it, Derby?"

Nothing had prepared him for the hard punch in his chest. He stumbled backwards, and he would have broken his neck if he hadn't grabbed a hold of the shower door.

Derby was truly _furious_. His face was livid with emotion, and it startled Bif as much as the punch had. "Get _out_ of my shower, you prick! I am _not_ going to be subjugated by someone like _you_!" He shouted, standing right up against Bif. Even if he was nearly a head shorter, Derby was incredibly intimidating, his eyes flashing. "If don't want to believe me, then that's perfectly _fine_, but I am not giving you another answer other then Pinky, no matter what you say or do," He pushed a finger into Bif's chest. "And if you have a problem with that, you can just leave."

Bif bit his lower lip, clinging to the door. "So… you…?"

"Pinky." Derby barked too quickly, prodding his finger into his chest again. Why was he getting so emotionally defensive over this? It was… unnerving for Bif.

"Derby, I'm sorry… I know about your situation with Pinky. I just sometimes…? Ah, you know. Forgive me?" He fibbed smoothly, giving him a small smile.

Derby did not smile back. "I don't feel like forgiving your obvious lies right now, Tremblay." He ducked under the other's arm, pushing the door open. Bif stumbled forward, watching with astonishment as Derby grabbed a towel and wrapped it around his waist. He walked into his bedroom, picking out pajamas from his closet as if the other wasn't here.

Tremblay. He had called him Tremblay.

Bif grabbed a towel, drying himself quickly and throwing on the clothes he had come with on. He walked into Derby's bedroom. His face was hidden behind an issue of GQ magazine, only his blonde hair visible.

"I'm sorry I bothered you. Goodnight… Har… Derby." His face flushed red. He couldn't do it- couldn't call him Harrington in company like this. With a flustered sigh, Bif left the room.

* * *

Yaaay Derby/Bif! I just love them. I love to think of them as friends-with-benifets, but actually one of the only true friend's Derby has. That's why when Bif got into the shower, they were so casual; just talking, washing up. They're physically attracted to each other, but they're also friends, so leaning against the shower room wall and watching the other soap himself up while talking about squinty-boy Hopkins just dosen't seem… odd. XD

Anyway, review, favorite, give me hugs and kisses, et cetera et cetera. You know the drill. Also, would anybody care to beta the next chapter for me? I need some help with Bif's speech. Just send me a message through FF if you want to help. ;D


	2. Accusations

The Price of Face  
Chapter 2: Accusations  
Rating: T  
Warnings: Swearing, boy kissing. Nothing big this chapter.

_'People are fragile things, you should know by now  
be careful what you put them through.'  
-Munich, The Editors_

* * *

Derby sat back in the sofa, kicking his legs up onto the coffee table. He let out an annoyed sigh, pushing the Auqaberry throw blanket off of him and grabbing the remote. With a flick, he stopped the movie, and the DVD popped out. Derby started to surf through the channels.

The small snore from his shoulder caused him to jump a little, and he furrowed his brow, glaring over at Pinky, who was wrapped up in a blanket. While the girl certainly didn't 'love' Derby, she seemed to go through spontaneous fits of neediness. After their date to the movies, which was a depressingly stupid chick flick, ('My Love For you will Never Die: Part 20.') they came back to Harrington House. They made out for a while, then Pinky insisted on watching _another_ movie.

It was The Notebook.

_'Thank God she fell asleep.'_ He thought, keeping quiet for the pure sake that he felt he might have to simply say no if she woke up, and wanted to continue watching the movie. There were only certain extents Derby would go to for his fiancée-to-be, and watching The Notebook in it's entire length was not one of them. He doubted anybody could blame him, though. The movie was probably one of those things that would eventually be blamed on causing the fall of man.

He frowned, turning through the channels. There were 1,248 channels on this T.V., and not one of them contained an interesting program. It was the same-old, same-old; MTV, some children's show, news about a murder, the weather… He sighed, setting the channel on one of the music channels and letting his head roll back, closing his eyes.

Jazz music was always nice to listen to. Voiceless, it just focused on the instruments. The twang of the double base and the low hum of a tuba; the shrill of a trumpet, and the soft sound of piano keys, it all composed a nice melody, background music.

Derby fell asleep, not noticing that Pinky had begun to drool on his shoulder.

* * *

Gord let out a very effeminate giggle, making Parker inch closer to Chad. "Ah, look at them! How darling… sitting there, sleeping together. Such a nice contradiction to that crushing boxing match we just watched..."

"Crushing?" Bif asked arms crossed. His voice was a little too loud, and the other Preps shushed him quickly. Woe to whoever ruined a date between them, especially one that seemed to have turned out well.

"Yes! You defeated Bryce so smoothly, old chap, I could have sworn the whole thing was one planned-out play!" Gord chattered, not noticing that Bif was not focusing on him at all. His eyes were centered on the two 'lovebirds' on the couch. "It seemed all it took was a few right hooks, and one nasty five-punch combo and he was down for the count!"

"Yes, yes…" Bif said sounding quite bored. "It wasn't that hard. Bryce has been letting up on his training, it seems."

"Why yes, I don't think I've noticed him around the Club as much as he usually likes to do!" Gord tapped his chin. "I wonder where he has been lately…"

Bif looked over at Chad. "Well, I suppose we should wake the two up. It would be no good to have them sleep out here. Besides, we wouldn't want Pinky caught by a prefect in here."

"Well, wake them up, then!" Chad said, rubbing his bandaged hand. Bif stepped forward, gently shaking Pinky's shoulder. The black haired girl yawned, blinking and pulling away from Derby.

"…Oh? Oh!" Her face flushed red, and she stood, looking clearly embarrassed. "I can't believe I fell asleep… oh, no, what time is it?"

"Ten o'clock." Parker said quickly, looking down at his white gold Auqaberry watch. Pink gasped, putting her hand to her mouth.

"You two! Escort me to the girl's dorm! It's nearly curfew, and I am not walking back by myself!" Pinky ordered. Chad and Parker seemed to pale, watching as Pinky stride towards the door with determination. She stopped in front of it, looking back at them with a frown.

"Well?! Is somebody going to open the door for me?" Parker scurried forward, holding the door open for Pinky, Chad following close behind. Parker sighed, leaving.

Gord smirked, looking over at Bif. "And that," He said in a slight whisper. "Is why I do not like to date girls."

Bif smiled. "I see what you mean." He nearly reached out to wake Derby, but the feeling of the other boy's eyes boring into his shoulder made the hair on the back of his neck stand up. Like he was waiting for him to wake the other up. _'What does he expect me to do, give him a wake-up kiss?'_

"Well… maybe I should leave him." Bif pulled away from Derby. "He looks like he's in a deep sleep, and it's late besides- no use waking him up just so he can go to bed again."

Gord sounded disappointed. "_Oh_." Bif felt his skin crawl, watching Gord turn and walk towards the stairs. "I suppose I'll go up to bed then… Taa-taa!"

Bif nodded, walking towards the downstairs bathroom door. When he heard Gord's bedroom door close, he quietly slipped out, heading back to Derby on the couch. He sat down next to him, reaching out and stroking his hair. It had been a week since their minor argument, and again, Bif found himself to be the one who needed to apologize.

Derby murmured in his sleep. He could feel a light touch on his shoulder, another hand brushing the hair from his face. He smiled slightly and leaned into the touches.

In his dreams, it was Bif. He was reclined back in a chair, with the taller boy sitting on his lap, lightly touching him. The dream was focused only on them; there was no background, no other sound, just them. Derby pet Bif's hair, and he leaned forward, saying something that had no words and yet he understood perfectly. A smile crossed his face, and he leaned down, capturing his lips in a kiss. _I forgive you…_

_I don't_. There was sudden pain, a bite, excruciating, and when he pulled away with a soundless gasp, it was not Bif. There was snide, greasy Johnny Vincent, come to taunt him.

I won. You lost. You're weak, Harrington.

"Johnny Vincent!" Derby gasped, his head snapping up as he woke suddenly. There was a crick in his neck from sleeping upright, and his shoulder was slightly wet- Pinky must have drooled on him. He pressed his palms against his eyes, sighing.

"… Derby?"

Derby pulled his hands away, looking over at Bif. He hadn't even realized that he was there. "Oh… Bif. I'm terribly sorry. Pinky and I… well, she dragged me into watching The Notebook, and then had the audacity to fall asleep on me. It was so incredibly boring that I nodded off." He looked around.

"Understandable." He said, sitting on the couch next to Derby. He leaned forward, placing an elbow on his knee and holding his face in his hand. "What I don't understand is why you shouted Vincent's name when you woke up, Harrington." His eyes were cold. "Especially after I kissed you, of all things. Seems like an odd reaction…"

Derby froze. He did not like the look in Bif's face. It was extremely malicious for someone he was used to looking so innocent. "I didn't say his name, did I? That is odd…"

"Johnny… Vincent…" Bif said the name slowly, letting it roll out of his mouth. "If I'm not mistaken, that is the name of the leader of the Greasers…"

Derby stiffened, standing quickly. "Forgive me, Tremblay, I ought to go to bed right now. I'm terribly tired." Bif stood, approaching Derby.

"Let's talk."

"I really don't feel the need to explain anything to you." He said crisply. Bif sniffed, tilting his head up and looking down at his leader. Derby felt his blood boil. How dare he..!

"I think you _do_ need to explain why you were making out with Vincent, Harrington." Bif said, crossing his arms. Derby gaped.

"I don't think I heard you right. Did you just accuse me of… _making out_ with Johnny Vincent?"

Bif took a step forward, towering over his leader. "Yes. I did."

The slap stunned him, stinging sharp on his cheek. Derby grabbed his collar and pulled him down so that he was leaning over, and they were nose to nose. Bif gave him a shocked look, not fighting back as Derby gave him a small shake.

"Do not _test_ me, Tremblay! There are matters that are above and beyond your simple brain. I did _not_ make out with Johnny Vincent. If you continue perusing the origin of my marks, I swear," His grip tightened. "I will _drop _you."

Four words you never wanted to be promised as a Preppy. The first year Harrington had self-appointed himself as a leader, one soul dared to protest his tyranny. Jerry was a good two years older then Harrington. But that didn't stop him. It was his first display of the true power he wielded, and through his clever lies and hurtful deceit, there were so many rumors spreading about the boy that he dropped out of Bullworth Academy.

"I dropped him." Derby had said, opening his closed fist as if in that motion he had dropped the man from the lofty Prep tier to the low class Dropout. A smug smile was on his face. "People are tools, Tremblay. I see no need in keeping a faulty one."

The only other time Derby had threatened someone was Tad Spencer, when he overheard him voicing his wants of being 'on top'.

"Oh, is that right, Spencer?" Tad stiffened as Derby approached from behind him. The others had fallen quiet. "That's a shame you dislike my leadership so much. Perhaps you should drop out of this clique and join another, then?"

The silence was stifling. Even Bryce had ceased his usual assault at the punching bag. It took a while before Tad mumbled an incomprehensible apology. Derby just gave him that smug smile, and walked away, Bif by his side. Tad was much more careful, from then on, about voicing his opinions.

Bif's mouth hung open, and Derby let go of him, looking absolutely furious. "And don't ever kiss me in an open area such as this, do you understand? Anybody could be watching."

Bif said nothing. Derby turned on his heel, walking upstairs. He knew he had to start walking, because if he kept looking at Bif's expression, he would lose his anger and feel that horrible emotion called guilt.

Derby had just, essentially, called Bif one of them. A nobody. An ant. A tool.

It hurt him much more then it should have, and he tried not to imagine what Bif felt as he left to his room.

* * *

Smoke curled from his lips, reaching out like dark tendrils towards the dark sky. The fall wind was chill, blowing the smoke away like the multitude of leaves that fluttered from trees.

Johnny placed the cigarette to his lips, taking a long drag of the cancer stick. He held it in, one, two, seconds before letting it out through his nose. The rush was great; it kept him as alive as much as the biting of the wind on his back, which seemed to seep through his leather jacket no matter how tight he pulled it around himself.

Besides, smoking was a dirty habit. It made him look bad and threatening, almost as much as the dead cow that was wrapped around him and the one gold hoop in his left ear. Right now, he needed that extra amount of oomph, that little bit more of aggressiveness. While he had the bad boy talk down pat, it always helped to look the part too.

After all, he was meeting with Bif Tremblay. And, as far as Preps went, he was the most dangerous one. He was a skilled boxer, the undefeated champion of the Preps. Tall and well built, he could probably take Johnny out after a few hits from the meat-lumps he called hands. Which is why he had his second-hand man sitting in the tree right next to their meeting spot in Old Bullworth Gardens. Even though the leaf coverage was spotty at best, it was too dark in the park to really notice the greaser above him.

"Youse alright, Johnny?" Peanut asked from above. Johnny sighed, leaning against the old tree.

"Yeah, Peanut, I am. Now will you quiet down? Tremblay said he wanted to meet alone- if he knew you were here, he won't even come over…" He took another drag from the cigarette.

Peanut was too high up to notice that Johnny's hand was shaking. "Alright, Johnny, sorry- I'll shut up now…"

Johnny nodded.

"Ah, actually, boss-" Johnny sighed, looking up at Peanut. "I've got one quick question…"

"Go ahead, Peanut, and make it quick."

"Why the hell does Tremblay wanna talk to you? Shouldn't Harrington be makin' all of the decision… decidin'?"

Johnny took a long drag of his cigarette, closing his eyes and leaning his head back against the bark of the tree, even though he knew it would probably mess up his hair. "Why?" He asked, just barely seeing the fervent nod of Peanut's head in the dark. Johnny shrugged. "Why the hell should I know?"

Peanut stuttered. "O-oh, sorry, I… sorry, stupid question…" He mumbled to himself.

Johnny looked back towards the entrance of Old Bullworth Gardens. His hands were still shaking.

It had been a little more then a week after the incident. There were no charges pressed, no death threats from Preppies, not even a peep from Derby himself. At first, that made him smug. He had _won_, intimidated Derby in ways that nobody else had.

And now he was scared witless that Bif had come, like an angel of death, to tell him that he ought to prepare for court, or worse, that the fact that he had done such things was going to get out to the public, in a way that would make Johnny look like a horrible monster. Lola would be so mad.

"There he is!" Peanut hissed from above. Johnny dropped his cigarette on the ground, crushing it under the heel of his boot as Bif approached. He shoved his shaking hands into his pockets, looking up at the grim faced Prep.

"So, what'd you call me out here for, Tremblay? Better be good, 'cause I'm freezing my ass off out here."

Bif pulled the LS jacket closer to his body. "I want to ask you some questions, Vincent, that's all." A small flurry of leaves fell from the tree behind Johnny, and Bif looked up suspiciously. "You are alone… correct?"

Johnny nodded. "Yeah, I am," He pulled out a pack of cigarettes, taking one out. He grabbed a lighter from his other pocket, fumbling to light it.

"Well, then…" Bif watched him carefully. "Let's get down to business. What did you-?"

"Hey, prep! Would you mind if we moved somewhere else? I can't light my cig with all of this wind…" He looked over at Bif, before making a quick glance up at the trees, doing it a few times.

The prep understood what he meant. He gripped his coat a little tighter, feeling annoyed. "Fine, fine! Let's go near the port potties, then, you ought to get enough protection from the wind behind one of those." Johnny nodded, walking off towards the port potties with Bif on his heels.

In the corner, away from Peanut's prying eyes and ears, Johnny leaned up against the wall, lighting up his cigarette. Bif made a face.

"Do you mind? I thought the whole cigarette ordeal was just a play to get us away from whatever one of your dogs was hiding in the trees. I don't want to reek of smoke…"

Johnny frowned at him, blowing the smoke out of his nostrils. "No. Now, are you asking me about what I think you are?"

Bif looked him squarely in the eyes, crossing his arms. "Depends. Is this a part of some alliance, or… something? Should I be looking forward to Greaser's in Harrington House?" He snapped, flustered. Johnny gave him a blank stare. What was he blabbering about? "I'd hate to see the outfits- leather jackets over auqaberry. But I guess that happens if the two of you are-"

"What the hell are you talking' about, Tremblay?" Johnny asked, nearly dropping the cigarette out of his mouth. "'Cause all I hear is nonsense."

"You and Derby! The marks on his neck!" He clenched his fists, glaring dangerously at Vincent. "You did that!"

Johnny paled. "Y-yeah, but-" He held out his hands as Bif approached, wishing he hadn't cornered himself into a wall. There was hellfire in the other's eyes. "Whoa, whoa, wait there, Boxin' Boy, you trying to say me and Derby…?" He paused, continuing quickly when Bif took another step forward. "Foolin' around?"

"Yes, that's what I'm saying, you dimwitted Greaser!"

Johnny took in a shaky inhale of nicotine. He didn't know what was worse- saying he had no idea what he was talking about, and get beat up. Or, saying what had really happened, and still getting beat up.

"Look, I can't… say." Johnny said warily. Bif was a ticking bomb, and if he didn't speak the right way, he was going to explode. "But, it's not what you think it is." He continued. "I don't like Harrington, and never will."

Bif let his hands loosen, looking confused. "You… then the marks? What are they?"

Johnny fidgeted. "Look, I gotta get goin'. I have a girl at home, and Peanut's freezing his 'nads off sitting in the tree. Ask Harrington yourself, if you really want to know…" He said, pushing past Bif. The auburn haired Prep stuck out an arm, holding him back. Johnny narrowed his eyes, looking up at him.

"Look, just tell Derby that I told you everything, he should spill it…" Johnny said. Bif frowned, but moved his hand. Johnny walked away from Bif, smoke curling from his cigarette.

Bif waited until both greasers left. (Which took a while, with Peanut nearly landing on Johnny when he fell awkwardly out of the tree.) He grit his teeth, looking up at the sky. So, Derby didn't trust him, did he?

He started walking back towards school, left to his own thoughts. Tomorrow, he would ask Derby. He would get to the bottom of this.

* * *

Reviews are extremely appreciated, people! I do reply to each and every one. (Well, I try to…) I'm still looking for a beta, so anybody who wants to, please contact me. I have the other chapter already written up, but I'll wait a little bit until I post it.

Derby was so mean this chapter, haha… Threatening Bif to drop him out of the clique. Oi. Be nice to your boyfriend, Derby… Bif's meeting up with Greasers just for you.

Jerry, by the way, is a Townie. I thought he would fit best as a former prep, as he always boasts about himself, and his ways with the wimminz… He'll have a tiny part in the next chapter. :D


	3. Trust

Title: The Price of Face  
Chapter 3: Trust  
Rating: T+  
Warning: Swearing, and a non-descriptive sorta sex scene… just read, would you?!

_You know you gotta help me out  
Oh don't you put me on the back burner  
You know you gotta help me out  
You're gonna bring yourself down_

_-All These Things That I've Done, The Killers_

* * *

The year Derby had entered Bullworth Academy was a momentous one for him. He'd remember it for the rest of his life, mostly because the school was in a very peculiar state; both the clique leader, and second-in-command of the Preps had been seniors the year before. When they graduated, the next year brought new blood and nobody to decide who was worthy of the auqaberry vest.

Derby and Bif, being of such high blood, sought out the Preps, even though the clique was in a state of awkward stillness. They accepted them into their fold, along with a few others.

Derby instantly became known as an extremely passive-aggressive person; even though he was a freshman, he was full of vigor and scathing remarks, and while most fights he got himself into were worked out before it escalated into violence, he did have a bite to go with his bark. He had a smooth tongue, and the poison that he could hiss was by far the most nasty, yet eloquent, thing the group of Preps had heard in years.

Bif took a liking to Derby early on. The first year, Bif was weak, more like Gord then a full-fledged, toned boxer. When Derby found a rather handsome looking auburn-haired boy bleeding from a fractured nose and cornered against the wall by three greasers, Derby rushed in to help him. (As it turned out, Derby was wearing the new style of Auqaberry boots that had a steel toe in them. As you can guess, the greasers went down with little fight.)

"You fight pretty well," Derby remarked, walking with the other as Bif held his nose in hopes of not staining his Auqaberry sweater any more with blood. "Though, I think if you would box, you would have a better arm."

"Boxing?" Bif asked, sounding perplexed, like the concept was entirely foreign to him.

"Yes," Derby smiled. "My daddy owns a boxing club… you could go there, if you want. Usually, preps are there, boxing and training." The lack of accent on Bif's part was duly noted by Derby; one of those charming quirks that he applied to his sweet disposition.

"Maybe I'll check it out… thank you, uh…"

"Derby. Derby Harrington."

Bif smiled. "Thanks, Derby, for walking me to the nurse." Derby watched as Bif walked into the Nurse's office. He smiled. He had found his first tool.

In the next few weeks, Derby started to really be noticed by the others as a potential leader. When the greasers planned an egging against the Glass Jaw Boxing Club, Derby riled them up, setting up tactics on ways that they could get the greasers. He even joined, though for the most part he was in the sidelines. It didn't matter, though.

After all, a much stronger looking Bif Tremblay was out there, fighting for him.

Jerry was a junior. He disliked Derby the day he set foot into this place. Harrington's arrogance clashed with his own, and his dreams of becoming leader were quickly being shattered by a cocky freshman.

And, oh, was Derby becoming cocky. Harringtons are born with a certain amount of cockiness in him. But the way that he seemed to be dominating the clique inflated his ego tenfold. And dear old Bif tended the other's arrogance like a garden, praising him and sticking by his side like a loyal dog. Derby relied heavily on his brawn and source of devotion, his smug smile always accompanied now with the taller boy by his side.

They were close. Derby thought of him as one of his most useful tools. Bif found himself wondering how soft his blonde hair was.

Jerry challenged Derby with his right-hand man to boxing; Chad against Bif. It was a clear sign, a straightforward battle. This was how preps fought it out: publicly and cleanly. (And with other people, of course, but that's the way things went. Jerry and Derby were commanders, Bif and Chad the army.) A sign was posted up, and all of the preps watched the match, betting money and homes and jewelry on their favorite boxers.

Bif won after two rounds, pounding his fist hard into Chad's nose. It made a sickening sort of snap and the dark-skinned boy fell, knocked unconcious by the blow. The public beating was what pushed Derby over the edge. Now the other Preps knew that he was all business. Him and Bif were a force of nature. They were like a hurricane, going through everywhere and turning the whole place upside down, ravaging anything in their way and sparing who was useful.

Derby thought about leadership, of getting everything you wanted and always being at the top of the world. Bif thought about Derby Harrington, and wondered if his lips were as soft as his hair looked.

* * *

Derby paused, pressing his ear against Bif's door. Even though this was his room too, he always made it a point to make sure that he wouldn't interrupt him roommate in the middle of doing 'something'. It was hard to hear over the ruckus in the common room, but there seemed to be no odd noises coming from the room. He knocked lightly.

"Is that you, Derby?

"You did exceptionally well tonight, Tremblay." Derby praised, opening the door and stepping inside. He closed it lightly behind him, though it did little to block out the sounds of the bullies tormenting the nerds. The walls used to hold up the boy's dormitory were so thin he swore that if someone knocked too hard, the whole wall would knock right over. (For such a prestigious school, the dormitory was a slum.)

The boxer was sitting on his bed, still in his boxing uniform. Derby sat next to him, patting his shoulder. Bif sighed, smiling weakly as he pressed the ice pack against his sore jaw.

"Thank you. While Chad has a good hook, he doesn't have enough power behind those swings. And he's too terribly slow on blocking and ducking…"

"Mm-hmm…" Derby nodded, lightly tapping on the hand that held the icepack to his face. "Move."

Bif obeyed, moving the icepack. Derby ran a light finger over his jaw, making him shudder unexpectedly at the touch. "Hmm. It may bruise, but it should be light." Bif blushed, nodding. "It's amusing… the new champion of the Glass Jaw Boxing Club, with a jaw as weak as glass…"

"Yeah…" Bif smiled. Derby took the ice pack from his hands, pressing it against his pained jaw. He blushed harder.

Derby held it there. "Keep the ice pack on! I don't need you swelling up like a balloon. Besides looking like Algernon, Jerry may very well issue another challenge, and you don't look very intimidating with a fat jaw." He was concerned for his little boxer. He was his final key to becoming the leader of the Preps.

Bif smiled warmly. He leaned towards Derby, placing a hand on his leg to steady himself and brushing his lips against his cheek. The kiss was so innocent, and when he pulled away, he seemed a little out of breath. "Thank you… Derby."

Derby looked surprised, but pleasantly so, leaning forward. He had noticed Bif's warm attitude towards him, but hadn't realized it extended this far. He would go along. Tremblay was quite cute, even with a slightly puffy jaw. His warm breath puffed on the one side of his face, balancing out the numbing cold from the ice pack on the other. "No problem, Bif." Derby said softly, the smug smile on his face making Bif shiver. He placed feather soft kisses on his cheek, trailing to his lips. Using the ice pack, he tilted his face, kissing him on the lips.

Bif moved his hand slightly, up Derby's leg- and he suddenly lost his balanced, falling forward onto him and pushing him back against the bed. "Oh!" He chuckled weakly, realizing that they were on a bed, and having just kissed… Bif hadn't meant to take it this far…

Derby threw the ice pack to the side, that smug smile still on his face. Bif felt his face suddenly warm as two hands had slipped under the waistband of his RnR boxing shorts, only separated by thin boxers. He squeezed, earned a full shudder from Bif. "Charming…" He said absently, sucking on Bif's lower lip. He seemed to melt, wrapping a hand in Derby's hair and pulling his face against his for a kiss.

(Yes, his hair was as soft as he had expected it to be.)

Derby's hands slipped out of his pants, gripping his waist as they kissed passionately. It was all teeth and tongues, their legs getting tangled together in the euphoric rush of trying to make a connection. Derby drew the metaphoric first blood, arching in a way so that their hips grinded and their groins rubbed together. Bif let out a needy moan, kiss broken.

Bif looked down at Derby under him, his blonde hair messy and his face flushed. It was odd, seeing him looking what he must look like; he looked so human under his body. Derby flashed him a quick, arrogant smile, pulling him forward for another kiss.

It went by too fast. They were young- Derby just turned 15, Bif still 14- and they had a weak tolerance for pleasure. Their clothes never managed to be shed before Bif stiffened and bit back a moan, arching shamelessly as he came in his pants. Derby followed soon after, thrusting against him and biting his neck to stifle any sound.

They laid there for a few minutes, sweaty and trying to catch their breath. Derby poked at Bif's leg with his feet, and he reluctantly rolled off of him, suddenly feeling the awkward stickiness in his pants. It didn't matter right now; he found himself clinging to Derby. Harrington sighed, deciding to indulge the other's neediness. It wasn't that bad. Bif was cute, after all.

He pet Bif's hair, letting out a small sigh. There was a spring poking into his back. "These beds are terribly uncomfortable."

Bif answered with a snore. Derby looked down, surprised. His lips twisted into a small, secretive smile. His best tool.

The next weekend that rolled around, Derby visited his parents. He detailed to his father how dissolute their quarters were over dinner. The day after, Derby biked back to school with a note from his father, telling Dr.Crabblesnitch that he wanted to build another dormitory, for, as he put it, for 'parents who donated great amounts to the school.' That included all of the preppies, the only people who could afford both tuition and donation fees. It only took a few months, as his father constantly had people working on it. When it was finished, it was an open declaration of his wealth and power, sitting proudly amongst all of the other buildings.

Derby broke a bottle against the side of the house when it was finally unveiled, looking up at the small plaque.

"And I christen thee, Harrington House…" The other preps clapped politely, murmuring excitedly to themselves over the new dormitories. Derby couldn't have cared less, though, as the others filtered into the new house, grinning and patting his back.

"Nice one, ol' chap!"

"Bloody hell, this is amazing!"

"You're a right miracle worker, Harrington!"

Derby took his rank as leader gracefully and naturally. With Bif by his side, they were unstoppable.

_I win_.

* * *

Gord flicked through the channels, sitting on the couch along with Parker and Chad. Who had given Vendrome control of the television, god knew, but he eventually stopped on the Lifetime channel.

Chad made a disgusted face, looking over at Parker, who seemed to be turning a light shade of green.

"Oh, momma!" A pretty, young girl with straw yellow hair and a southern drawl was on the screen, holding up a small blue stick. "I'm pregnant- with _Bubba's_ baby!" The mother wailed on screen, and Gord shook his head, murmuring something to himself.

Gord never noticed as the remote control was very quietly slid away from his side. Chad passed it over to Parker, who smirked and changed the channel.

"Hey!" Gord snapped, reaching for a remote control that wasn't there. "Give me that back!"

"He's finding something good to watch, ol' chap." Chad said dismissively, ignoring the burning glare he was getting from Gord. He swore those eyes could bore into his head. "I mean, that _was_ the Lifetime channel. For women? Girls?" He continued, his eyes on the television as Parker rapidly clicked through the channels.

Gord sniffed, crossing his arms and turning to the television. What a brute… "You just don't appreciate good drama."

"I _happen_ to have testosterone, not … not…" Chad stammered, chewing his lip. Should have paid better attention in biology. "Girl… hormones."

Gord gasped, looking seriously offended. "Well, I'll let you know your Auqaberry vest is out of season… you getting poor, pauper?"

Chad jumped up, taking a boxer's stance. "Say that again, Vendrome!"

Gord jumped up also, clenching his fists. "Your vest is utterly _unfashionable!_"

"Why you-"

"The lives of the rich and famous…" The television boomed, pictures of celebrities flashing on screen. Parker watched, finally placing the remote down. Gord and Chad paused, looking over at the screen. "And, in recent news… Lindsey Lohan does have burning loins, according to gynecologist. Also, Arthur Auqaberry, designer of the Auqaberry line of clothes, has gotten himself a golden toilet…" The picture of it flashed on screen. Both Chad and Gord sat down, suddenly absorbed in the program.

"I want a golden toilet…" Gord muttered, leaning forward.

Parker smirked, stifling a laugh as the two boys forgot their argument and just watched the screen.

* * *

Derby's hands trailed over the bottles in the bar, looking for something that would whet his tongue, and give him a reprieve of the recent stress that was building atop his shoulders.

He stopped when his eyes fell upon a small bottle, the label speaking of all manner of fanciness. Like Gord to clothes, he noticed the seal and the flourishing writing; the small details that spoke of a good spirit. He picked it up, reading the fanciful script: _'Champagne, 1956'_. Derby arched an eyebrow. That must be terribly expensive; champagne aged for 51 years? No doubt, it probably ranged in the thousands. He turned it over, looking at the bottle. Much more then what he was used to drinking.

The cork was popped, and Derby helped himself to a glass under the bar, blowing the dust out before pouring himself an ample amount of the bubbly. He moved out from behind the bar, balancing the glass in one hand and the bottle in another as he sat himself down in one of the chairs.

Though he would like others to think he was a connoisseur in such fine things as wine and spirits, he didn't particularly care right now. The glass was finished in one, two, large gulps, and he poured himself some more. It didn't matter what it tasted like, how old it was, or that he was five years younger then the drinking age.

After the third cup, his mind was simply buzzing. He sighed, kicking up his feet on top of a table.

The double doors suddenly pushed open, revealing Bif Tremblay. That pleasant buzz was gone, replaced by thoughts, and Derby gave him a displeased look, taking a sip of champagne. "Hello, Bif…"

Bif placed his LS jacket on a nearby hook, pulling up a barstool next to Derby. Derby sighed. "Get a glass." He pointed towards the bottle, and Bif shook his head, not looking Derby in the eye.

"No thanks."

Derby grumbled, nursing the alcohol in his hands. Awkward silence filled the room. Bif took in a slow, deep breath, before letting it out. He ran a hand through his hair. He knew if he didn't say it now… it would never come out.

"Johnny told me everything." He blurted out. Derby, mid-sip, choked and sputtered on his champagne. Bif quickly jumped down from the barstool. "I'm sorry, I just had to…"

Derby cleared his throat, looking at Bif. It was hard to tell his emotions: a mix of sadness, hate, and a sort of crushed look, all thrown into one. It was so uncharacteristic of him; Bif had to turn his head away. "He… everything? He told you everything that happened that night…?"

"Everything…"

Derby's face changed suddenly, his eyes growing cold and hard as he finished his champagne in one gulp, slamming the glass down so hard Bif was afraid that it might break under the force. "So what do you think of me now, Bif?" The anger in his voice was clear, but Bif couldn't tell if the anger was actually directed at him, or the hateful memories. "What _does_ one think when they hear that their Derby Harrington got practically… raped by Johnny bloody Vincent?!"

Bif's face dropped in utter shock. "Johnny did… what?!" He hadn't really prepared himself for that. Derby shook his head, looking pained.

"He caught me off guard! He… came at night. Slammed me into the trophy cabinet… I put up a fight. I think I broke his nose. But he had a god damn board with him, and…" He shook his head again, pouring himself some more champagne. "God damn it, Bif, you just had to stick you nose where it doesn't belong!"

Bif's stomach churned. He sat next to Derby, rubbing his shoulders gently. "Derby, tell me everything…" When the other looked up at him suspiciously, he added quickly. "I want to hear the story from you… to get all of my facts straight..."

"… He snuck up behind me when I was checking on the trophies. Rammed me into the glass. I managed to break his nose with a punch. This," He pointed to his bruised face. "Came from the wooden board he was carrying." Derby's voice was strained. Bif poured himself some more champagne. He sipped listlessly at his drink, cradling his head in one hand. "It was… messy. To put it bluntly, I…" His voice shook. "I was touched in ways that only you've done before, Bif, and not in a good way."

Bif's strong arms wrapped around Derby, and if he was a weaker man, he would have turned around and cried into his shoulder. But he wasn't. He was Derby Harrington, and nothing could take him down. "I'm so sorry, Derby… If I would have known…"

"What did he tell you?" Derby asked, his voice still wavering in the slightest.

"Ah, well… he… told me about how he gave you the marks on your neck, and how… you got your bruises from being hit with the board so many times." Bif fumbled for an answer. Derby tensed ever so slightly, his eyes narrowing.

"Oh… did he also tell you how… he made me…?" He shook his head, closing his eyes. "With my mouth, no less, that dirty pauper…"

"Yes!" Bif suddenly exclaimed, his grip around Derby tightening. "And I'm going to kill him for that!"

Derby kept shaking his head. Bif sighed softly. "It's alright, Derby… I'll… I'll be there for you…" Derby rubbed his temples, letting out a tired sigh.

"You know what I hate, Tremblay?" His tone had suddenly gone cold. Bif's grip around Derby loosened, but he pressed a soft kiss against his cheek. Derby stiffened, pushing the arms off of him.

"I-i…"

The question was rhetoric; Harrington didn't wait for Bif's answer. "I hate liars. I hate people who get into my business. I hate _pity_." He clenched his fists, turning away from Bif. "And you, Tremblay, are all three: a liar, nosy, and… I hear that pity. In your voice…" He looked over his shoulder at him.

"Get out."

"I only did this because I care!" Bif suddenly yelled, exasperated. "I'm not trying to be a snoop, I just… I care for you, Derby!" He walked up to Derby, who had his back toward him. "Why… why are you like this?"

"I'm a Harrington! We don't need help! We don't need pity! I'm a leader, and I sure as hell don't need you!" Derby yelled, looking away from Bif. His eyes were filled with anger, but he had his arms wrapped around his torso in some sort of half-hearted self-hug.

"Derby, you… it's the alcohol talking. C'mon…" He held out his arms. "I didn't do this to go against you. I did this because I care. You know that… right?"

"Get out…" His voice was less convicted. Bif sighed. "I don't trust you anymore."

"… I doubt you even trusted me in the first place…" He muttered, grabbing his coat. He turned and pushed through the double doors, walking briskly down the hallway and taking the steps two at a time.

"Hey, chap! Care for a round of-"

"No. Not in the mood." Bif told Chad sharply, startling the Prep as he pushed past him and rushed out of the door. Chad stood there, slightly stunned.

"Wonder what's eating him?" He asked, slightly miffed.

Parker shrugged, sitting on one of the workout benches as he flipped through a boxing magazine. "Beats me. He acts like he was just dumped… I would know. That girl…"

"Parker, you and your girl troubles…"

* * *

Before anybody asks… The Gord vs. Chad bit was just something I wanted to do. Will not contribute squat to the story. It was just meant to be a little lighthearted thing amongst all of the angst. I really love Chad, Gord, and Parker. And all of the preppies, really.

Anyway, I loved doing a little flashback. This chapter was one of my favorites. I hope Derby doesn't seem too odd. In the coming chapters… (Not the next, but maybe the one after? Or the one after that?) You'll really get to understand why he's pushing Bif away so much.

Expect at least two more chapters, but count on three. I can't get enough writing them!


	4. Viva La Revolution

The Price of Face  
Rating:T  
Chapter 4: Viva La Revolution  
--

_You're where you want to be, I'm where I want to be  
Caught up chasing everything I've ever wanted  
I replace you easily, replace pathetically  
I flirt with any flighty thing that falls my way _

_But how I needed you, when I needed you  
Let's not forget we are so strong, so bloody strong_  
-Come on Home, Franz Ferdinand

Derby stretched, languid like a cat, over Bif, draping his smaller body across his larger one. He had awoken on his own, despite the fact that the alarm clock had been turned off in their haste, both knowing they would be too tired and sore to even get up for morning classes. Bif was blissfully unaware; his snore a slight whistle, chest rising and falling in a calm beat. Derby smiled, pressing a kiss on Bif's chest and tracing invisible patterns on the skin, letting his fingers slide over his heart.

Derby shifted his body slightly, and he felt his face flush, a short laugh escaping him. He gave Bif a smug smile, (_'You better be thinking of me.'_) and slid out from under the covers, walking towards his desk and retrieving a book. He climbed back under the covers.

Bif mumbled something unintelligible, turning around and throwing an arm around Derby. His eyes were half opened, and he yawned and mumbled some more nonsense, a sleepy, happy smile on his face.

Derby had his eyes on the book, flipping it open. "Good morning…"

Bif blinked, yawning. "Good morning, Derby…" He pulled away from him, rolling onto his back and sitting up in bed, rubbing his eyes. "What time is…?"

"Around 9." Derby said absently, flipping through the book. Bif nodded, rubbing his eyes as Derby suddenly found it fit to crawl into his lap. "Hmm…" He finally settled himself in between Bif's legs, resting his head on his chest. A blush crossed Bif's face, but he didn't say a word. Who was he to deny Harrington of what he wanted?

"What are you reading…?"

"This year's yearbook." It was nearly the end of the school year, the May weather pleasantly warm and hinting towards the humid hotness of summer. They had sent out yearbooks, and it was only a matter of weeks before a good few students could congratulate themselves on having survived the first year of Bullworth Academy.

They were included in that. Bif watched as Derby flipped through the pages, finally stopping on one particular one.

He tapped the black and white photo of Jerry, and even though Bif could not see his face, the pride and smugness was almost felt. "Did you hear? Three weeks until the end of school, and he couldn't manage. He dropped out."

"Dropped out…?" Bif stated incredulously, a little dumbfounded. Derby nodded, turning the page and starting his listless look through the book again.

"It was a shame, too. I was having so much fun with him. I hadn't even gotten to being starting up rumors about his girlfriend…" Derby drawled. "Even broken tools have their uses…"

"… Tools…?" Bif asked dimly. Derby sighed, craning his head back to look at Bif.

"Yes. Tools." He spoke to the other as if he was a small child. "I would think that you would know that by now. People are all tools. To be used, then discarded when they become a hindrance." Derby turned back to the yearbook, missing the frown that crossed Bif's face.

"Then what am I?"

"Bif Tremblay." Derby stated simply, thinking it was a dumb question.

Bif let out a frustrated sigh, suddenly placing a hand over the book. "Not that! What do you think of me as? A tool."

Derby closed the yearbook, throwing it lightly to the ground. He sat up, twisting around and putting his legs around Bif's waist so that he was sitting on his lap. "Yes. You're my tool of burning, passionate sex." He said casually, leaning up to press a kiss on Bif's lips. He frowned, though his hands still snaked around Harrington's waist.

"No, really. What do you think of me as? A tool? Or a friend?"

Derby's eyes furrowed. "You're extremely thoughtful for nine in the morning, Bif."

"I think I have a right to be…" Bif leaned forward, pressing a few chaste kisses against Derby's neck. He let out a noise that sounded like a purr, his head tilting back to expose more of his neck. But Bif stopped, his breath hot against the flesh of his neck. "So, what am I, Derby?"

Derby's face turned thoughtful. He looked uncharacteristically innocent, his face not twisted with smug smiles or daring eyes- just plain, simple. "I suppose you are more then that. Though, I didn't think you would need me to tell you that. I thought it was pretty obvious that I liked you."

Bif smiled pleasantly, starting anew of his assault against Derby's neck.

* * *

Bif woke up on a pleasant Thursday morning, the sunlight streaming through his blinds and casting muted shapes onto his comforter. He yawned, relishing in the comforting warmth of his bed, where everything outside was cold and dulling with the approach of winter. He murmured to himself, eyes half-closed as his mind slowly took shape.

Thoughts didn't immediately come to him until he rolled over, facing the window. A shaft of light fell upon his eyes, and he grumbled, burying his head into the pillow to give his eyes that much wanted darkness. _'Stupid blinds… stupid light… stupid Derby…'_

He blinked, raising himself up on his elbows and staring down at the pillow. Derby… thoughts flooded into his mind, recounts from last night. He groaned, flopping back down onto the pillow and rolling on his back. He had messed up big time. To earn the trust of Derby Harrington, a man who gave none, was phenomenal. To manage to lose it in such a manner could put him up for running as the eighth wonder of the world.

He laid in his bed for a while, staring at the ceiling. He wondered how he would be kicked out of Harrington House. Jerry's fall from grace was all by himself. He removed himself from the house and the whole school itself quietly. Bif gripped his sheets tightly. Would he fight? Or would he put his head down and walk away like a good boy?

He rolled over on his side, noticing the digital clock on his side table. It was around seven. Bif sighed, willing himself out of his warm bed. It took a while, but finally his muscles obeyed, and he threw back the warm covers, letting the cold seep in. He shivered and swung his legs off the side of the bed, standing and heading towards his closet.

Bif's mind was preoccupied. It took him two times before he correctly buttoned his shirt up, and by the time he shoved his vest on he was thoroughly frustrated.

He felt like bursting out of his room, but his hand suddenly lingered on the doorknob. He could almost see it: a small note, written in Derby's shorthand on his door. _'Pack your bags,' _He imagined it would say. _'And be out of here by the time night hits.'_

Bif hesitated, and then opened the door, closing it behind him to check.

No. Nothing. Not a note. Just the brown wood of his door. He sighed, heading downstairs.

* * *

"Oh, _Derby_!" Pinky giggled, a slight blush crossing her face as Derby pulled the black-haired girl into his lap. He gave the rest of the preps a smug look. He was dashing and rich and had a beautiful girl on his lap. Here Derby sat, in the middle of the cafeteria, a proclamation that even with a bruised cheek, he was still on top of his game.

Pinky kissed him on the cheek. She was still going through her needy phase still, and was very pleasantly tolerating Derby's sudden attention. Derby smiled, resting a hand on her waist.

"I wish _I _could get a good girlfriend…" Parker lamented, chewing on his apple. He looked downtrodden, resting his head in a hand. Chad sighed, rubbing his newly bandaged left hand. "I can't believe she left me… I'm always dumped…"

"Maybe next time, old chap, maybe next time…"

"Oh, Chad?" Derby suddenly called to the end of the table. Chad looked up. Even just calling his name, he sounded so smug and arrogant.

"Yes, Derby?"

"I was wondering if you would accompany me down to Auqaberry around one, to get some new clothes…" Derby said, trailing off as Pinky suddenly looked away and pouted. He smiled, kissing her on the lips. "Of course, after me and Pinky are finished with a date at the carnival." The girl smiled, wrapping her arms around his neck.

Chad blinked. When had Derby taken a sudden likening to him? "O-of course, I'll come with you!" He agreed, even though he had a test to study later on. It was social suicide to refuse Derby Harrington. Besides, it was never bad to get on the good side of him.

"Great!" Bif approached the table with an apple, sliding in right next to Parker and eating quietly. Derby tensed slightly, but continued talking. "I'm thinking of getting a boxing uniform for myself; perhaps you should get a new one also?"

"Th-that would be a fine idea." Chad said, a little flustered over this seemingly instant friendship he had with Harrington. As quick as he had sat down, Bif stood up again, walking out without a word. Parker glanced questioningly at him, watching him leave.

* * *

"What a whore." Lola sniffed, glaring over at Pinky Gaulthier, who was hanging all over Harrington. "And for her own cousin too. Hmmph."

"I wouldn't mind if someone sat in my lap…" Johnny mumbled indignantly, frowning and stabbing at his mysterious meat lunch. Lola prodded him in the arm.

"What'd you say, Johnny? 'Cause if you're telling me to be a whore, I'm not like that! I'm not!" She huffed. Johnny quickly put his fork down, smiling and leaning close to her, wrapping an arm around her waist.

"Of course not, Lola, I know that! You're my queen…" He leaned in for a kiss, but was abruptly stopped by Lola's hand. She tore away from his grip and stood, nearly causing Johnny to fall over.

"Nuh-uh, not now." She placed her hands on her hips, turning around and heading towards the exit. He didn't know if she meant it or not, but every step made her hips swing, and all eyes were focused on Lola in her tight pants. "Think 'bout what kind of girl I am, Johnny Vincent, 'fore you start thinkin' I'll just put out for you in front of all these people." Lola sauntered off, leaving Johnny alone at his table, save for a few other Greasers who were trying to hold their laughter in.

Johnny looked over at them, gesturing with his spork. "What?! Shaddup, would ya? It's probably her time of the month…getting all of these mood swings…" He grumbled.

Peanut nodded fervently. "We understand, boss. Girls and their… girlish problems."

Johnny sighed hopelessly, stabbing at his mysterious meat.

* * *

Bif paused, right in the doorway of the cafeteria, holding his apple core. He leaned against the side, looking through the cafeteria. All of the cliques were sitting and conversing; preppies, jocks, and elementary school kids on one side; greasers, nerds, and the odd no-cliques on the other.

How long would it be, before he would have to sit at that lonely looking table, next to the pessimistic Constantinos and extremely masculine Eunice Pound?

He gave the cafeteria a sour look, lobbing his apple core as hard as could and walking away.

* * *

Something hard hit his head. It _hurt_. "What the-?" Johnny looked around, the apple core rolling under his feet. Who the hell had the audacity to throw an apple core at his head? The whole table of greasers fell silent as Johnny scanned the tables, looking for the guilty individual.

("Boss, your hair's got apple pieces in it-!")

And his eyes fell on him. That arrogant, pompous jerk. He was mocking him. Bif must have told him how nervous he had been that night. And Derby was better then ever, a stoic pillar, like nothing had happened; girl on his lap, chatting up a storm.

Johnny grabbed a slab of the mysterious meat, seeped in the brown mystery sauce, and flung it across the room with all of his might.

It took Derby a few seconds to register why brown gravy was dripping down into his eyes. Pinky yelped, jumping off of Derby's lap as a bit dripped down onto his sweater. With a growl, he flung the piece off of himself, standing up.

"Who the hell threw that?!" The cafeteria had become quiet, people looking around. And there was Johnny Vincent, giving Derby a smug look.

Somebody screamed "Food fight!" and it was all chaos from there.

* * *

The door to Harrington house opened, loudly hitting the wall. Bif looked curiously up from his book, watching as a very angry, very _messy_ Derby Harrington stormed in, with Chad and Parker tailing him.

He bit his lip, hiding his face behind his book. Their outfits were entirely ruined beyond repair, stained with red ketchup and brown gravy and all the manner of disgusting foodstuffs. And even though Parker's pant leg was dripping mustard onto the carpet, Bif couldn't help but feel very pleased with himself.

"Derby, would you mind if I came along with you and Chad to Auqaberry?" Parker asked, picking at his vest sadly. "My clothes are in such a sorry state…"

"Sorry, you can't." Derby said quickly, brushing him off like a piece of lint. "It's a mano-a-mano sort of thing. We need to talk about important business."

Chad felt his face drain of color. When had he become second-in-command?

Bif's good mood was suddenly ruined.

* * *

Tad usually did not find Bif at the punching bag. He was either in the ring, or at the sidelines, taking bets and throwing insults. His strength came from almost always being challenged. He was the opposite of Bryce, who practiced and practiced and when he finally _did_ get up to fight, he was a mediocre fighter at best.

His vigor was surprising and violent, to say the least. Not very befitting of a high-class person. He seemed to snarl at the bag, his lip curled in a sneer as he beat it. The heavy, brown bag took the abuse in place of another; it's only complaint coming out as the creeks of it's swinging chain.

"Good evening, Bif."

"Evenin'." He grunted, not even gracing Tad with a look. He just simply punched the bag, ducking as dodging and jabbing as if it was another fighter. Tad raised an eyebrow.

"You seem angry. Care to share?"

"Not really, no." Bif said shortly, causing Tad to look even more surprised. Not many things bothered Bif this much. He was one of the best natured Preps, and even Greasers didn't rile him this much. Who could have gotten under his skin this much..?

Tad would have smiled, if it wouldn't have made him look conniving. "Could I venture a guess?"

Bif said nothing. The bag creaked in reply, and Tad took it as a yes.

"Rumor has it that you and Derby had a fight."

Bif stopped, straightening out. Now that he wasn't moving around so much, it was apparent at how worn out he was, his breath coming out in short pants and sweat rolling down his brow. "So? Why does it matter? It's our personal business."

Tad shrugged dismissively, leaning against the side of the boxing ring. "I was just wondering. Since you're in a fight with you best chap, I was thinking you need an ear to listen." Bif looked away, his shoulders sagging slightly. Bingo. He had hit the jackpot.

"It's just… we fought over a certain piece of information. Whether I should or shouldn't have put my nose into it." And here Bif paused, noticing the gleam in Tad's eyes. "While I can't tell you _what_ this information is, I'll say it's sensitive."

Tad smiled, nodding at him. "I understand. So, it must have been quite a stir to rile you up like this. It's a shame, to see a friendship being rifted like this."

Bif sat down on the push up bench, taking off his boxing gloves. "A rift?" He mumbled, throwing the two gloves to the ground. "More like a canyon. I'm being replaced. For the stupidest of reasons…" Tad blinked, looking surprised.

"Replaced?"

Bif smiled grimly. "As best friend. As second-in-command."

"Oh…"

The boys both fell silent. It took Tad a while before he brought up enough courage to finally put his plan into motion. If this didn't work out correctly, then Derby would not forgive him and his noveau riche family. He would be out. Dropped.

"He can be… tyrannical, sometimes." Tad said slowly. Bif looked up at him, his face a mixture of emotions. His lips finally decided on a sort of sad smile, and Tad felt his breath catch in his throat. Bingo.

"Yeah. Yeah, he can." He said softly. The treasonable words felt odd on his lips. He felt like a traitor, Tad and him anarchists in the carefully constructed society. And it felt terribly uplifting. Freeing, even. "A right prick, sometimes." His words had strengthened, even if Bif could only manage to look at his shoes.

"It's a shame that he can do this…" Tad began slowly, testing the waters.

"… Abandoning people. Controlling people. Doing whatever he pleases…" Bif lamented.

"… Just because he can. Because he knows that he's the champion …" Tad started to pick up speed.

"…. He knows nobody will oppress him. He's already made his leadership clear…"

"… Derby is so sure of himself, so sure that everyone else will eat out of the palm of his hand…"

"And maybe I don't want to, anymore."

Bif looked up at Tad, and they stared intently at each other. The room had grown tense, and save for the slight creek of the punching bag, no sound was made.

"Perhaps it's time for a revolution." Tad finally piped up. He couldn't let this die; not now. It had gone to far. It was either now or never. Bif's eyes narrowed slightly. "The old ways are too dated. Maybe it's time for something more… _noveau_."

"Noveau…" The French word rolled off of Bif's tongue. He smiled. "Ah, I do love French. How would you say it? Viva La Revolution?"

Tad laughed, hard, tilting his head back so that it seemed to echo throughout the club. His spirits were soaring right now, and his eyes seemed to gleam. Bingo. Jackpot. Yahtzee. He had Bif Tremblay batting for his team now, and when he looked at the other with a grin, Tad wondered briefly if this is how Derby felt; full of power and hope for the best.

But not anymore. Bif Tremblay was on his side. "Yes! Viva La Revolution!"

* * *

Derby twisted in his sheets, gripping his mattress. He was in the throes of a nightmare, panting and arching and twisting.

Johnny Vincent was looming over him, a demon of malice and hate. He could crush him with a blow, could smash him to smithereens. Derby was powerless to his touches, to his hateful words and stinging punches.

'_You're a weakling, Harrington. A grade-A buffoon.'_

Derby flinched, pulled away as Johnny greedily plundered his mouth, snickering the whole while.

'_You're so stupid. You let Bif find out, didn't ya? Stupid. What if he tells people? Tells the world that Derby Harrington is just a little bitch. That's all.' _Johnny laughed, and Derby whimpered._ 'Go ahead, push him away. Before he tries to talk to you about it, or suggest you go talk to someone about it; 'fore he accidentally slips up and mentions it. Yeah, go ahead. Push him away. Does it make you feel better?'_

No. Derby felt utterly alone, cold in his bed. Johnny laughed again, laughed long and hard.

'_It shouldn't. 'Cause no matter how far away he is, he still knows.'_

* * *

Derby stood, his hands behind his back as he gazed out. He had the eyes of a hawk, and he was searching for his prey, bright blue snapping back and forth, studying the ground beneath him.

He heard the footsteps behind him, but did not turn around. If it were somebody coming up here to bother him, they would have to speak up for themselves.

The few moments of silence was irking him. He couldn't concentrate on what he was looking for, and Derby sighed heavily. "Yes? What have you come in here to bother me for?"

"Who are you looking for?" Jimmy asked, taking a step forward so that he was standing right next to him. Derby's eyes widened. While he could have passed for a prep, with his long, carefully done hair, auqaberry vest and slacks, and even a pair of auqaberry boots, it still didn't dismiss the fact that a peasant had gotten into Harrington House.

"Hopkins! How did you manage to squirm your way into here?" He asked.

Jimmy shrugged. "Parker needs glasses." He stated simply, crossing his arms as he looked out onto the school from the Greenhouse. He pointed out with one hand. "Hey, is that Bif..?"

"Where?" Derby leaned against the glass, finally spotting the taller Prep and his headful of auburn hair. He squinted slightly. Who was Bif talking to?

Tad. He grit his teeth. That _bastard_.

Jimmy watched Derby, before turning away. He grabbed a nearby bottle of plant poison, casually spraying the large Venus flytrap that sat in the corner. Harrington was too busy to notice him. "Things are going to change around here, Harrington."

Derby's hands curled against the glass, his lip curled up in disgust. "A good king squashes upheavals, Hopkins. And that is what I intend to do. They're not getting away with this…"

Jimmy arched an eyebrow. While he wasn't exactly talking about that, taking the Prep's down in the midst of a leader change would be easy. "Oh, well… okay." Jimmy said with a slight shrug, squirting the plant with more vigor. The flytrap suddenly made a sickening noise as it died, and Derby turned around suddenly, spotting the edge of Jimmy's shoes as he flew out the door and an empty spray bottle rolling around on the floor.

"You-! Everybody, Hopkins is in our dormitory! Get that pauper!" Derby yelled downstairs, before turning back to the window. Tad and Bif had left, and were nowhere in sight. He growled, pounding his fists against the glass wall of the greenhouse. "Damnation!"

* * *

I know, it's actually Bif who guards Harrington, but… well, oh well. XP It's just a small detail.

Anyway, much love for Traitorous Tad. That's what I'll call him. ;3 Traitorous Tad… hehe… Anyway, Viva la Revolution! The conquered become the conquerors, no? C'est la vie… Oh, and thank you, the few who review. You'll be pleased to know in a few chapters, (One? Two? Three?) there will be the climax, and, oho, I promise it will be good. x33 I'm more excited then all of you are, probably.


	5. Retaliation

The Price of Face  
Chapter 5: Retaliation  
Rating: T

'_Time after time those fanatical minds try to rule all the world  
Telling us all it's them who's in charge of it all  
I've got a trick, a magic stick, that will make them all fall  
We've got the power now, motherfuckers; that's where it belongs'_

_-The W.A.N.D., The Flaming Lips_

* * *

Power. It hummed through his blood stream, stronger than any tangible sort of drug you could get your hands on. It didn't dull the mind, but sharpened it, all the while pumping endorphins and adrenaline through your system. He seemed to crackle with electricity, and every one of his movements seemed planned, calculated, yet natural.

The smug smile was trademark. Derby knew it struck fear into people, as much as his larger than life presence. He crossed his arms, looking down at Jerry while at the same time looking up at the slightly taller prep.

"So, what do you say, old friend?" Derby's words flowed, smooth as the drug that pounded through his mind. "I think I would call this another win."

Jerry was absolutely livid, gripping the hem of his Aquaberry sweater in that nervous habit he had. He picked at it, pulling loose ends and making new ones. (Maybe he was a loose end, driven to the edge by a smug little bastard.) "A win?! More like cheating!" His voice wavered, suddenly squeaking. The other preps that surrounded them laughed in their polite sort of way, covering their faces, and turning their heads. "You… _cheated!_"

"How?" Derby asked bluntly, tapping a finger against his arm. When it was obvious he wasn't going to embellish anymore on his words, Jerry flinched slightly, looking away.

"That… Bif!" Bif looked up from his seat in the middle of the ring, where he was tightening the laces on his shoes. There was blood splattered on his shirt from Chad's nose, drying dark red. Jerry eyed him with open contempt. "Look at him! Tall as a jock!" he spat with disgust. "What sort of steroids are you giving him?"

Derby smiled dryly, looking uninterested in this whole affair. "I think you've gone batty, Jerry. This is Bif Tremblay, not Max MacTavish." At that, the crowd went up into more fits of laughter. Jerry's face turned a light shade of red. "I hope you noticed, but he practices everyday." He turned to look over at Bif, who had resumed his quiet job of doing up his shoes. He knew that he needn't speak up; Derby was in his element, and now it was his turn to take center stage. "Unlike Chad. It's a shame, really…"

Jerry seethed, his habitual picking becoming more fevered. His finger hesitated, and he ripped a little too hard- there was now a small hole in the hem of his sweater, but it passed unnoticed save for the giggling crowd. "You… you…"

"Try to take your loss more gracefully next time, Jerry." Harrington said, tilting his head and smirking. He looked over at Bif, who had his eyes on him. "Come on, Tremblay. I think it's time to make good on that promise Father made about letting me borrow the yacht for a class party."

There was a sharp rip of fine fabric. Jerry finally managed to tear the hole through his fidgeting. And he suddenly lunged forward at Harrington, taking him completely off guard. They both fell over, rolling on the ground as the encircling crowd suddenly started to chant.

Bif was up and over, jumping through the ropes to reach the two. "Derby-!" And then, he leaned forward, boldly wrenching Jerry off of Derby.

"Get off of me!" he snarled. Derby shakily stood, brushing himself off. His lip had split.

Jerry twisted, managing to wrench a hand away from Bif. This was suddenly out of control - a few of the older preps came over, one grabbing Jerry and pinning him against the side of the ring. He screamed, struggling only for a little until Bif punched him square in the jaw.

"Despicable." Derby spat, still dusting himself off. "Reducing yourself to an animal- reducing us all to animals!" He pointed back toward the half-circle crowd, who had fallen eerily quiet. Only Bif noticed the way Derby's smile seemed to ease a little, his eyes narrowing. He had just realized something. "Almost as bad as your mother…"

"My mother?!" Jerry nearly roared, renewing his struggles. The crowd started murmuring, and Derby turned around to face them, his audience, shaking his head.

"You haven't heard…? How his poor mother was caught in New Coventry with some of the poor louts that frequent there?" Even though his voice was soft, it was powerful, and Jerry's indignant yells could not quiet him. "She even had to have an abortion down there, poor woman. But, I guess she wouldn't have been driven to those means if his father hadn't started gambling…"

"You're a liar!" Jerry's voice had broken into a screech. He was sweating profusely. "A liar! My mother… My mother…"

"Your father _is_ a gambler." Bif said a matter-of-factly. The crowd broke out in more tense mumbling. "And, if my memory serves, I think I did see a woman that looked like you the last time I chased a few Greasers down in that area…"

Jerry was sweating bullets. His father _was_ a gambler. But his mother wasn't a prostitute! "Liars! Both of you!"

"You know, I think I might have seen his mum…"

"A shame, his father spending all of their money…"

"What little money they had, anyway."

"Haha, isn't that the truth?"

Derby wiped at his bleeding lip, looking over at Jerry. The crowd had spoken. They, being the judge and jury. And Derby, being the executioner. "Are you quite finished?" Bif walked over to the locker rooms. This battle was over. Jerry grit his teeth, and the preps that were holding him let go. He slid to the ground, looking up at Derby venomously.

"You…. You…" And he had to bite back his words as Derby struck out a hand, a peaceful offering to help the other to his feet. Dumbfounded - he clumsily took it - hoisting himself up. Derby smiled, leaning close and whispering into his ear.

_"I win."_

* * *

The tension in Harrington House was thick. Gone were the worries of when their weekly allowance would come, or if the Greasers had tried to egg their house. An entirely different air replaced it. Suddenly, those things seemed so trivial in the face of what was to come. What that was, they didn't know- but it spoke of change.

Chad was absent from the couch, leaving Gord and Parker alone together watching Hollywood News. (Which made Parker terribly uncomfortable, because without Chad, his personal buffer, Gord always managed to sit too close to him.)

Bif was constantly being spotted in the gym, taking up the punching bag along with Bryce. And Chad. That was his new hangout, constantly getting better, constantly training.

Tad and Derby were also always there, but they were never fighting. Like true gentlemen, they sat upstairs in the bar, talking to each other over trivial things like the upcoming style for wintertime and how their families were doing.

It all seemed rather normal. It looked normal, and it sounded normal. But the tension in the air was thick everywhere. Changes were happening.

Tad swirled the wine in his glass, sitting rigid still in the bar seat. He took a small sip, cautiously watching Derby as he took a polite sip of his own drink. He was doing a good job of hiding his nerves, looking absolutely serene even though he was sitting in the enemy's territory. "So, Harrington, how has Chad been doing?"

Derby smiled thinly, holding the glass lazily. He seemed much more at ease, his legs crossed. "Why do you ask, Spencer?"

"Oh, I've just noticed how you two have been together so much as of late; shopping, talking…" Tad took another sip, his voice smooth and confident. "He also seems to be training a lot more."

"Yes," Derby looked away, feigning disinterest. "He has."

"That's good. He really should get better, if he wants to beat Bif in a match." Tad continued, looking unperturbed even as Derby's eyes narrowed and focused on him, his clutch around his glass tightened.

"Why would Chad even fight against Bif?" he pressed. Tad gave him a quizzical look.

"What? Didn't I…oh!" He smiled warmly. Thankfully, Tad was a master of emotions. It helped him survive his abusive Dad, feigning love for a man he absolutely loathed. "Pardon me, but I could have sworn that I had already mentioned it. Bif has decided he wants to reopen the chance for Championship to the others." Translation: I challenge you, Harrington. Derby sipped his wine, trying to keep his temper under check. This was exactly what he didn't want, and it had come way too soon. "And, well, I had surmised that Chad would definitely want to have a try at it."

A smug smirk crossed Derby's face. He had to rise to the challenge, of course. "Why, I'll definitely talk with him tonight, but I can almost guarantee that he will want to challenge Tremblay," And then, he paused. "Does a week from now seem good?"

Tad smiled, finished his wine, and placed it down on the table. "Perfect." He stood. "Now, if you don't mind, I'll get going."

Derby waved his hand elegantly, offering the same false smile. "Of course not. I will see you in a week."

"A week, of course." Tad murmured in agreement, turning and leaving. The doors closed behind him, and it took a lot of self-restriction on Derby's part to keep himself calm.

Derby frowned, slamming the rest of his wine back and grumbling to himself.

* * *

Tad liked to think of the boxing match as a gun battle- Wild West style. It was all planned ahead; time was agreed on, and you would meet in the center. Back to back. Count, ten steps, don't let your breathing get to hard, just get ready. Hands on holster, one, two, three. When you get to nine and a half you turn, guns out, shooting and hoping it hits something soft like his chest or his neck. You have to depend on your gun, and you hope that it won't misfire.

You hope that it won't suddenly turn on you, suddenly remember that the person against you was the gun's maker and explode in a shower of gunpowder right in your face.

Derby liked to think of it as a duel. He likened it to an old-fashioned three musketeers sort of duel, fit for fairytales. First, you bow to your enemy, exchange brisk words, courteously hiding the malice and hate you hold for the other. You can't show that; that's not dignified, not polite. You have to let your swords talk, and you hope the thin blade won't suddenly snap under your grasp- because then you're dead. Without your weapon, you can't do jack shit, and you might as well throw yourself on the other's blade.

Bif thought of this as a boxing match. Not because he was stupid or simple. No, if it were a different match, against a different person, he would have probably made a connection between a war, or a ballroom dance, or something equally as elegant. But this wasn't that type of match. This was a boxing match, pure and simple. He had to knock the other out.

No matter what.

A week was plenty of time. News spread of the fight like wildfire.

"Did you hear? Harrington and Tad are fighting for leadership of the Preps!"

"_Bif and Chad? Fighting? Chad's going to walk away with more than __a bandaged hand…"_

"_Haha, preps are stupid. How come they don't just beat the shit out of each other when they want to fight, instead of getting others to do it for them?"_

There were no posters or banners announcing this groundbreaking fight. People overheard each other. It was a simple case of 'he-said-she-said', and it spread around the school faster than lice. People were buzzing with the new news, a bit of spark to an otherwise fairly boring school.

Tad schemed.

Derby brooded.

Bif practiced.

* * *

Gary Smith smirked, slapping a large wad of cash onto the table. Parker looked up at him quizzically, one hand on the calculator and the other with a pencil hovering over the betting sheet. He had always been the banker for bets, mostly because he was the one Prep that everybody trusted the most. "… Yes?"

"Fifty on the current champion." Gary said, tapping the bills. He then turned around, grabbing the smaller boy behind him, and pulling him forward. Pete Kowalski wriggled from his grasp, pushing him lightly.

"Get off, Gary!" He said indignantly, shrinking backwards when Gary made a sudden step towards him.

He burst out laughing, "'_Get off, Gary!'_ Just put your bet down, Femme Boy." Pete glared back at him, reaching into his pocket and pulling out his money.

"Uhm, thirty-five for Chad." Pete said meekly, sliding it forward.

Parker sighed, scribbling their names and money down. "I hope you two know, the odds for Chad winning is eight to one." Pete's face fell, and Gary snickered. "And the chance of Bif winning is two to one."

"I guess winning is in my favor, like always. Come on, Pete, let's go find a seat…" Gary said, striding off towards where the other preps had placed a few rows of seats around the boxing ring. This was a much bigger match than before, much more public. The seats were already filled with preps. But there were also a few nerds, a couple of the non-cliques, and even a handful of jocks.

Gary and Pete moved toward the front row. "Move, Algernon." Gary said icily. The nerd frowned, clutching to the sides of his chair.

"Why should I move, Gary? You're just a bully…" Algernon frowned, though he was shaking a little as Gary loomed over him. It only took a few seconds of glaring from him before Algernon whimpered and got up, running towards the back row. Gary sat down, and Pete let out a sigh, sitting next to him.

There was a loud bang, and heads turned toward the entrance where the doors had been thrown open loudly. A few preps jumped up as in strode Johnny Vincent; Peanut and Norton tailing him. The two sneered at the preps as they walked past, but Johnny had his sights set forward.

Parker arched an eyebrow as somebody cleared his throat above him. He sighed, putting his pencil down, and looked up.

"I think the sign very clearly stated that we didn't want any riff-raff, Greaser." Parker stated icily, crossing his arms.

Even though his cohorts seemed to bristle at that comment, Johnny simply shrugged, giving Parker a charismatic grin as he reached into the pocket of leather jacket. Parker stiffened, jumping up. "If that's a-"

"Geez, would you settle down, fairy?" Johnny said, pulling out not a firecracker, but an extremely large wad of cash. Parker's eyes widened, and he sat down as Johnny licked his thumb, going through the cash and putting each bill on the table as he did so.

"Hundred, two hundred, three hundred, four hundred…" They were all Benjamins, and the crowd surrounding the boxing ring gazed at Johnny curiously. "Five hundred, six hundred, seven hundred, eight hundred, nine hundred…" He paused, looking over at Peanut. Peanut sighed, giving his boss a desolate look.

"But Johnny…" he whined. Johnny stuck his hand out, rubbing his thumb and pointer finger together. Peanut sighed, digging into his coat and pulling out two bills, setting them in Johnny's hand. He smirked and placed them on the table. "Nine-fifty, a thousand."

"That's ludicrous!" Gord piped up from his seat, sounding flustered. Vincent had just bet more than any of the preps had. "Where did you steal the money from, Greaseball?"

Johnny frowned. "That's my savings, you stupid pansy. I didn't steal nuthin'." And then, to Parker. "I want that all on Harrington, you hear?"

Parker's mouth dropped a little. "You mean… Chad and Harrington, right? Eight to one odds?"

"Yeah." He tapped Parker's bet paper. "Put me down: Johnny Vincent, one thousand on Harrington and his little fairy boxer." Parker nodded, dumbfounded, and quickly scribbled his name down as the trio walked towards the seats, wedging themselves in the middle.

Peanut leaned close to Johnny, "Why'd you go for Harrington, boss? I thought you were gonna root for that Spencer kid?" He said softly, making sure the others around them wouldn't overhear. Johnny shrugged.

"'Cause I think boxing boy ain't all that he's cracked up to be, alright?" And when Peanut stared at him expectantly, Johnny frowned, poking Peanut in the arm. "Harrington _always_ comes back, Peanut. You should know that."

"Huhn…" Peanut shrugged. "I guess so…"

"Guess so… you better hope so!" Johnny said, punching his friend in the arm. "We have one grand on him! Now go get me and Norton a soda."

* * *

"Are you ready, Morris?" Derby asked tersely, looking over Chad. The dark skinned boy looked nervous. He was already sweating bullets in his green boxer's outfit.

He nodded. "Y-yeah. I'm ready." Chad said, putting a scowl on his face as he made a few quick jabs at the air. Derby felt his throat tighten. God, he hoped he was ready. He approached the other from behind, giving his shoulder a half-hearted pat. Chad jumped and tensed underneath his touch.

"Good luck." _You'll need it._

* * *

Bif and Tad had taken the bar upstairs to change as opposed to the locker room. They needed the privacy to talk and discuss the last minute plans before Tad sent Bif out.

"So…" Tad said slowly, watching, as Bif seemed to nearly bounce, easily switching from one foot to the other. He was grinning, filled with a sudden boundless energy. "Are you ready?"

"Ready? Of course!" His voice was nearly singsong, and he made a jab at the air, twisting suddenly and ducking, landing a mean uppercut to the invisible foe. He couldn't help himself. His stomach was feeling empty and nauseous, yet he felt strangely happy. "Float like a bee and sting like…"

"A hornet…?" Tad offered, when Bif could come up with nothing. Bif frowned slightly, standing still, obviously in some sort of thought. Tad flushed. "So, you are definitely ready?" He asked, changing the subject.

"Yes. I'm ready." Bif said. His voice seemed much more monotone, and he walked toward the door, Tad on his heels. He grabbed him before he could reach the doors, and Bif turned around, perplexed.

"Aren't you a bit scared? Nervous, even?" he asked. Bif shrugged away from his touch, pushing the doors open and walking out. "Me? Scared? Out of everyone, it should be you the one who's scared." Tad frowned. "You have everything at stake here."

"If you lose, you're also paying consequences." Tad said softly, his voice hushed so that only Bif could hear him.

"If I lose, then you're gone. But I have nothing at stake here." Bif said strongly, strolling past Parker. He gave him a half-hearted wave, but it wasn't returned. He jumped up onto the edge of the ring, sliding through the ropes and sitting on the small chair in his corner. Tad leaned on the ropes behind him.

"What do you _mean_, you have nothing at stake? If we lose…" Tad paused, and then shook his head, looking a few shades paler. "I really can't say. I dread the very thought of losing; and that's why you simply can't."

"I'm not planning on it." Bif said, looking around in the crowd. All of the preps had come, plus a few nerds and jocks. His eyes widened slightly as he found Johnny Vincent and two greaser punks sitting there, talking amongst themselves obnoxiously loud. "Who the hell let the riff-raff in?" He said, a little too loudly, making a few of the crowd look over at him blankly.

Parker cleared his throat, and Bif looked over at him. "They just let themselves in… we decided to let the greaseballs stay simply because Vincent bet more than anybody else has."

"Really?" Tad piped in, arching an eyebrow. "What, has everyone already spent their weekly allowances? How much did he bet?"

"One thousand dollars." Both of their mouths dropped, and Parker shrugged. "He put it down on Harrington and Chad."

"Oh, well," Tad said, smiling smugly. "That's a shame. The pauper is going to lose every bit of money he has." Parker snickered, and the two didn't notice that Bif wasn't laughing along. He was quietly eyeing the trio of greasers.

Everybody's eyes were drawn away to the locker room at the hushed hisses and whispers of two people, and Bif forgot all about Johnny when his eyes landed on Derby.

* * *

"Look, Petey! Two morons, leading their chickens out for the cockfight." Gary said with a smirk, leaning back in his chair. Petey sighed. It had been his idea to come, and he had drug him out to this stupid boxing club. He really disliked all of this. All this fighting for power, the stench of blood, sweat, and money everywhere.

Besides, it didn't help Gary's mind in the least bit. The cogs seemed to turn in his head a little bit faster. Gary prodded Pete's arm hard, pointing towards Derby and Chad.

How embarrassing. They were talking to each other in hushed tones; but by the look on Chad's face, he assumed that they had already started to bicker.

"What do you _mean,_ you're nervous?" Derby hissed. Chad frowned, feeling ridiculous that he even mentioned the feeling. He shouldn't have even bothered to be human around Harrington.

"I'm _nervous_, that's what I mean! I'm nervous I'm going to lose! I've fought Bif before; in recent times, in past times." His voice squeaked suddenly, his stress showing. "I've never beaten him!"

"Well, don't show it!" Derby snapped. "Do you think he won't notice? Bif practically feeds off of the fear." He leaned against the ring, looking at Chad with distaste as he climbed into it.

Chad swallowed thickly. Bif was sitting in the blue corner, his legs crossed. He had this sort of lazy smile on his face, and he would have looked more in place on a throne. King of this element, and Chad recalled a long time ago, when Derby and Bif had gotten into a fight, and he had complained.

'I'll be the king one day!'

His mouth dry, tongue heavy. He was the king of this. And he was so sure. Chad felt his knees actually wobble, his legs actually shake beneath him.

"Are we ready...?" Parker asked from the betting table. Chad nodded, popping in his mouth guard, and Bif stood, walking towards the center. They circled each other slowly, and Parker grabbed the small hammer, rising it over the bell. "On the sound of the bell, start."

Tad leaned forward, grinning, holding onto the ropes.

"Wait!" Derby yelled, and the whole room let out their baited breath. He motioned to Chad, and he walked uneasily over, spitting out his mouth guard.

"… Wh-what?" Chad stammered. Derby growled, jumping up on the edge of the ring, holding onto the ropes. He lurched forward, his other hand grabbing the sleeve of Chad's boxing shirt. People murmured in their seats.

"Get _out_. We need to talk." He emphasized this with a sharp yank at Chad's sleeve, and the boxer paled and stammered incomprehensibly, stumbling his way out of the ring. He was lead, like a dog, back to the locker room by Derby Harrington.

Bif frowned, crossing his arms. Tad growled, leaning on the ropes. "The audacity he has! To postpone the event! I can't believe…" His words dwindled off into harsh, angry things that shouldn't be uttered by Preps, and Bif blocked them out of his mind, his eyes on the locker room door.

"Well, this is certainly… odd." Parker commented from his seat at the betting table.

Bif felt goose bumps rise on his skin as Chad walked out of the locker room, looking blank. He was wearing his normal clothes, thrown haphazardly on. Chad would have never willingly come out into public like that, with his dress shit un-tucked and wrinkled. Bif's throat constricted slightly, and he already knew what had happened before Tad's indignant gasp, or the dumbfounded cry from Johnny and his boys, or Gary's low, callous snicker, as Derby walked out of the locker room.

Derby didn't bat an eye, didn't blink twice as he walked out holding his gloves and in his newly pressed Aquaberry boxing outfit. He vaulted himself into the ring by the ropes, taking his time to slip his gloves on, nonchalant and even looking slightly bored at the whole situation.

"What are you doing up there, Harrington? Don't tell me you're going to _box_." Tad sputtered, slamming a hand down on the ring. This was preposterous. _Ridiculous_! Who heard of a leader defending his own title? It took the whole _point_ of leadership over the preps and smashed it into bits. "Chad is supposed to be fighting! Not you! Not now!"

Derby smiled smugly. "I don't need him." he said, looking at Bif as he did so. Bif flushed, his fists clenching.

"Then let's start!" he barked suddenly, taking an aggressive step forward. Derby met him, and they were chest-to-chest. They glared at each other for a second, before they backed off. Parker stood.

"To your corners, gentlemen." Bif and Derby went to their respective sides, standing tense and coiled. Parker chewed his lip, the small hammer wavering over the starting bell. "At the ring, begin."

_Bing!_

* * *

Everything was out the window now. Tad came prepared, with his ten-gallon hat on his head, his guns polished and in their holsters. The other man came with his gun, but it broke on him before you even had a chance to begin. And you laugh, and smile, because that means this is in the bag. You can't back out of a gunfight. But the other guy is making you nervous, and he has this look in his eyes.

"I don't need it." He snaps. He doesn't need his gun. Huh. That's funny. You go back-to-back, and start walking, and you swear to yourself that you don't care that his eyes were sparkling in a funny way. You don't care that this is a dying man fighting for his last breath. You're going to win.

Derby came to the duel with his sword, tightened his cravat and strode out into the square. But, by the time you are there, the light is bright and you notice all of the cracks in your sword. It's so thin and meek and you know, against his, his monster of a sword, you know you're going to lose. You've got a rapier and he has a fucking broadsword and he knows it. You drop your sword, and you stand and bow, ignoring his confusion.

"I don't need it." You know it's hopeless, that you might as well impale yourself now, but you're going to fight tooth and nail for this. Screw the pleasantries, you're not going down without a fight, because what else do you have left?

Bif now sees this in a different light. This isn't a boxing match anymore; it's a Civil War. Your brain and heart are fighting each other, asking if it's right or not to shoot your brother, even though he's more then willing to prod a gun against your temple. You question him, but his face is empty and you know he's not fighting you. You're just another weapon of the war, and he's not really fighting you -he's fighting the system, what you stand for.

That doesn't make you feel any better.

* * *

If you noticed, this chapter should read better, because the wonderful Airenko was my beta. ;3 She helped me realized that I really ought to hit some grammar books, because I'm slaughtering those poor then/thans and commas.

Since this is a cliffhanger, I really can't say much. (Your welcome to put bets up, though. xP) Next chapter may take awhile to write- mostly because I want to make sure it's magnificent, and it's really turning out that way. Very excited about it. ;3


	6. Sparring

'_I'm a driver, I'm a winner; things are gonna change. I can feel it.'  
-Loser, Beck_

The Price of Face  
Chapter 6: Sparring  
**ACHTUNG! WARNING!** There is detailed fighting and sex (WHOO!) in this chapter, reader discretion is advised, I'm too lazy to change the rating to M, etc.  
And, of course, thanks to my lovely beta, Airenko. I don't know how she puts up with my atrocious grammar.

* * *

The bell rung loud and sharp. With it's sound came the tumultuous roar of the crowd; Jocks and Greasers throwing crass insults, Preps shouting their carefully constructed insults, and the others just whooped and shouted. Raw energy crackled through the air, and the two boxers suddenly lunged at each other.

Like dogs on a tight chain, they never actually struck- they retched back before they collided. Bif was nimbler on his feet, more practiced than Derby, and he was able to pull off the lunge while still lashing out with his right arm. The punch that he landed against his face was sickening and sharp, flesh against the glove, and the crowd grew even louder. Bif had struck first, and already so early in the game.

Derby's gloves were up before Bif could land another punch, feeling more startled than in pain. The crowd was loving it; he was utterly alone in all of this. He knew that none of the people out there would mind seeing him get beaten down into a bloody pulp. Everyone out there was against him. He grit his teeth behind a thin smile, dodging a heavy punch thrown by Bif. He had braved through things before, he could do this by himself.

He was a Harrington. Harringtons don't _lose_.

Derby's mind was moving along at a fast clip, dodging another punch. He had to think this through, formulate a plan. The great height difference between them was a slight problem and he'd have to be careful while dodging. Also, Bif was physically stronger; a punch from him would hurt much more.

Bif threw another punch at Derby, though it was half-hearted. Derby sidestepped, his fists thrusting out quick and fast.

Bif hadn't been expecting that. His fist connected with his eye, and he stumbled backwards as stars exploded in the back of his head. Immediately his gloves went up, and Derby turned his assault to Bif's body. But he was too quick, too bright for that, and even though his eye was smarting, he dodged it easily. Derby punched; Bif dodged.

It went on like that for awhile- Derby lashing out when he got the chance; Bif jumping back and throwing out sluggish punches. It was as if he was purposefully trying to push him away, not exactly fighting but more like holding him off.

Derby frowned at him. "What the hell are you doing, Tremblay?" The crowd couldn't hear them over their own din, too absorbed in jeering and cheering to really pay attention to what was going on. "Are you getting soft on me?"

He dodged Derby's charged punches, taking a step back and circling him. Bif blocked the next two punches, thankful of the height difference. "I don't want to fight, Harrington. This is ridiculous!"

Derby laughed, ducking and punching right into Bif's gloves. "You seemed content to fight against Chad," he said between punches. "Content to turn your back on me."

Bif glared at him, his teeth bared in a snarl. Derby took the time of weakness to slam a punch into Bif's side. He got a solid blow, but it left him open. Bif's left fist hooked upward, connecting with his chin, and the crowd roared as Derby yelled.

Bif jumped forward, kicking out, and sweeping Derby's legs out from under him. He fell, and the crowd was caught in between a mix of boos against the bad sportsmanship and cheers for it. Parker jumped up at his desk, pounding on the bell. "To your corners! Your corners!" Bif turned on his heel, not even looking at Derby.

Derby flinched, rubbing the back of his head, and propping himself up on his elbows. Bif had gone straight to his corner where Tad was yelling all manner of obscenities at him as he sat on his stool. Parker frowned. "Tremblay! Try to play by the book. This is _boxing_."

Derby got to his feet, looking up at him. Bif just shrugged at Parker, not looking at anything in particular. "I know." Parker frowned, sighing.

"Are you alright, Derby?" he asked.

Derby snorted, "I'm fine. Let's continue." His jaw was a bit numb from the uppercut - and when he opened his mouth to talk, it made an odd popping noise. He picked himself up, standing in the center.

_He didn't want to fight_.

Bif walked back to the center, looking right past Derby. Parker sat back down. "Now, on the bell, fight. And please, let's keep this _clean_." Fists raised on both sides, they went into motion as soon as the bell struck.

They circled each other, eyes focused and sharp. They were just out of arms reach, and when Derby closed in a few steps, Bif took a few steps back.

He growled, suddenly pulling in fast. Instead of backing up, Bif took Derby's frustrated speed for his advantage, pulling out a hard blow to his cheek while simultaneously dodging the sloppy body blow Derby tried to land. The light buzz of the room erupted once again in a dull roar. Bif's face was still that firm line; not a smile, not a frown - and he followed up his punch with another.

Or tried, anyway. Because of the height difference between the two, Derby could dodge almost as easily as he could simply block. Derby flashed him a haughty smile, his breath coming out in a light pant. "Now, you're fighting, Bif?"

His answer was another punch, but Derby saw it coming too quickly, dodging the body blow. He tried to squirm in a punch of his own, but Bif was fast to switch his defenses on, and Derby's gloves hit Bif's.

"You could do so much better." Derby said condescendingly. "You're pathetic, Tremblay!" His voice was slightly strained, a slight growl bleeding into his contained tones as he tried to land a punch into Bif's gut. "Pathetic!"

He sidestepped, gracefully jumping back a few steps. Bif's features finally changed from his monotone, a desperate frown formed on his lips. "Look, Derby," He blocked the incoming punches, trying to keep mostly out of his reach. He sounded sincere, keeping his voice low. "I'll let you clock me out. I'll let you just punch me, right in the jaw, and I'll go down and pretend that I'm out-"

"Fight!" Derby shouted sounding so strained that his accent had disappeared. "For god's sake, Bif, fight me so I can beat you!" Some of the people in the audience sitting closer to the front heard, and they stopped in their cheering, confused. The whole room fell quiet when Bif suddenly stopped, letting his fists drop.

"Why are you doing this? Why the hell are you fighting me?!" he demanded, gesturing loudly at Derby. Derby stood there, clenching his fists hard and staring at Bif with steely eyes.

"You always were a pathetic wretch, Tremblay!" And his voice was nearly shaking, drawn as taut as a bowstring. It was so uncharacteristic of him, so foreign that it took a few seconds for Bif to register his words fully after he said it. "You always were a useful tool, but even the highest quality products break after awhile, don't they?" Derby's breath was ragged with emotion and weariness. "Don't they?!"

Bif's jaw slackened slightly, his eyes widening. The crowd had fallen into a quiet murmur, and Parker was looming over the bell, ready to ring it if the fighting didn't continue.

It seemed like a split second, and Bif had traveled the space between him and Derby. His body was all muscle and fury, and the hard, forceful punch connected straight on with Derby's chin. His head snapped to the side from the sheer force, and Bif managed a few more punches before Derby could struggle up his gloves to defend himself.

There was a vicious glint in Bif's eyes, the hunger to defeat, and he was relentless in his punches. Though caught off-guard, Derby managed to regain his composure, even if his mouth was strangely numb right now. They traded a few punches, all of them hard. There was no more hesitation. Bif reeled his arm back, striking Derby hard in the mouth.

The bell cut through the general din and noise, and Parker's voice surprisingly loud. "Round one over! Back to your corners! Back!"

It was like separating oil from water. They backed off, slowly, still eyeing each other as if expecting one of them to suddenly lunge at their throat.

Derby slumped back in his chair, taking off his gloves with shaking hands. He touched his lip, feeling wetness. The taste of blood was now apparent in his mouth, and he made a face, trying not to wretch from the terrible taste and the sudden pain that was throbbing in his mouth. There was also something hard in his mouth, and with a cough, he spit out the tooth Bif had dislodged onto the mat. He gazed down at it, numbly surprised, almost wondering how he had gotten a loose tooth in his mouth- did Bif put it there when he punched him? He was running off of adrenaline, and at the moment there was no such thing as pain. (It looked like a canine, and when he pressed his tongue towards the left, there was a slight flare of pain, as he tasted copper.)

Tad smirked, watching smugly from the sidelines as Derby stared mesmerized at his tooth. He tossed a white towel to Bif. "Good job, Tremblay!" He jumped up, balancing on the ropes behind Bif, and gazing over at Derby like a vulture. "Just into the first round, and already he's worn down."

Bif just nodded, wiping the sweat from his face. Tad continued to ramble: "I can't believe you took a tooth out. That's amazing! He'll have to get a fake one" He said smugly.

Bif watched Derby, noticing the small amount of blood that was dribbling from his lip.

* * *

It was bright red, and showed up much too clearly for Bif's liking on Derby's fair skin. He always thought it was remarkable how beautiful he was; blonde hair, pale skin, blue eyes - all placed artfully on a narrow face. His mouth always in some smug smile. He brushed a thumb against the cut, and Derby flinched, swatting at his hand.

"It's cut, _and_ bruised. Mind your hands, would you?" he grumbled, even though he raised his hand to the wound to touch it himself. Bif sighed, turning away from his patient to collect some more tissues.

"What made you think it was a good idea to walk through New Coventry all by yourself?" he asked. Though the question was blunt, the tinge of worriment in his voice kept Derby from replying haughtily. Bif sounded so worried; Derby let him press the tissues against his lip, ignoring the brief flare of pain.

"I had some fun with greasers" Derby said, shifting on his barstool and placing his hand over Bif's. "Egging." he elaborated, and when Bif let out a sigh, Derby had to smile slightly. "Well and also, a little bit of business."

Bif made a disgusted noise in the back of his throat, pulling his hand away from his face. Derby kept the tissues there, and Bif turned towards the bar. He opened the fridge, grabbing some ice and wrapping it in more tissues. "Here," Bif tossed it to Derby, and he caught it, placing it against his eye. He squeezed out from behind the bar, sighing and sitting next to him. "So, as you were saying business?"

"Yes"

"_You're_ not going out with Lola Lombardi too, are you?" Bif asked, feeling a bit jealous. Derby gave him a look of horror.

"My god, of course not! Who do you take me for, Gord? And besides, that's not my idea of business I would rather-"

"Keep the ice pack against your eye! You don't want to swell up like a balloon!"

"_Thank you_, mother, really." Derby looked at him sourly, and Bif rolled his eyes. "As I was saying, I had to go the that rat infested dump of a place for business. I had to get a present for someone."

"Oh." Bif shrugged. "Well, I hope it was worth it. Your eye very well may bruise."

"It was worth it." Derby said firmly, his smile turning slightly mischievous. Bif didn't really notice it as he got up, going behind the bar again as he began to make some drinks. "One of a kind gift."

"Interesting," Bif said dully, grabbing two wine glasses from the rack above the bar and setting them on the table. He filled Derby's with a little bit of wine, his with seltzer. "What sort of thing could you get in New Coventry? Did they open up a jewelry store in there?" He took a sip of his seltzer, sliding Derby's glass over to him before he moved out from behind the bar. "It's so ridiculous that the new trend is mixing the poor with the rich. I told Daddy that he ought to bulldoze the tenements down there, but of course-"

"Are you finished?" Derby asked offhandedly, sipping at his wine and looking slightly annoyed. Bif blinked, looking confused. "You seem too absorbed in yourself tonight, Bif. You haven't even asked who it's for."

"I assumed it was Pinky." Bif said, though he was suddenly curious. Derby broke out into that arrogant, knowing smile.

"No. It's not."

"Who, then? Father's and Mother's Day have passed and, well, I don't think there is any other holiday-"

"For god's sake," Derby rolled his eyes. (Well, eye, because he knew Bif would fret over him if he moved the ice from his left eye.) "It's you!"

His eyes widened slightly, and he had to cover his childish grin by raising his glass to his lips, drinking it down. "Oh, really? Well what is it?" Bif had a pleased look on his face. He had a _gift_ bought for him. Derby put the ice on the table, standing from his seat.

"I'll show you. But, close your eyes." Bif did as he was told, placing his hands over his eyes. "And don't try to peek! You'll ruin all of the fun."

"Of course, I won't." Bif said, listening intently as Derby rummaged through something. He could hear paper rustling, and he squeezed his eyes together tighter, just trying to imagine what Derby had gotten him. Maybe he was getting his hopes up too much. What if it was just something simple, something entirely platonic? Like maybe that new Aquaberry scarf he had told Derby about?

"Put your hands out, but keep those eyes shut. I'll beat your arse if you ruin this." Derby ordered, and Bif did as he was told, holding his hands out and keeping his palms flat. There was something cold and relatively small placed in his hands, and he automatically curled his fingers around it. It felt like a box "Open your eyes."

He did, looking down. It was a jet black box. Bif looked questioningly up at Derby, who was trying to contain his pleased smile. "Go ahead, open it up" he said softly.

Bif lifted the lid off gently, letting out a murmur of appreciation as the glint of white gold caught his eye. "Derby" He gently picked the watch up. Even by prep standards, it was extremely well made. It was white gold, with a pitch-black face. The numbers were roman, simple, a stark white that contrasted the black. He slipped it on his wrist as Derby leaned over, watching his reaction.

"It's not Aquaberry, but Pippo Italia- you know, all of the rage amongst Hollywood The jewelry shop in Coventry was the only one who carried genuine ones."

"Is this real?" Bif asked, tapping the strap. It felt like alligator.

"Yes." Derby said, sounding even more proud of himself. Bif gaped. This must have cost a bit, at _least_ two weeks allowance. "And, look at this. It was custom-made." Derby took Bif's wrist, pushing the dial in while turning the watch face left. It made a small pop, and it rose up, showing a small compartment underneath. "So, you have a small hiding spot there, to keep things. Probably big enough to hold a condom if you really tried."

Bif gaped, flushing and struggling on what he should address first; the fact that Derby had more than likely spent a month's worth of allowance on him, or the fact that he had really thought - and maybe even tried - to fit a condom into his watch. "Derby, you" he floundered. "You ah. Thank you. Thank you so much!" He smiled, gently pressing the watch face down, where it closed with another small pop. "I'm flattered"

"Just a small token, don't act like it's a wedding ring" Derby scoffed, though he was still beaming, and even his cheeks had taken on a redder shade. He let out a small noise of surprise when Bif's strong arms wrapped around his waist, pulling him close as he pressed his lips against his.

Derby moaned softly against him, sliding his hand into Bif's hair. His tongue pressed up against his lips, and Bif complied, opening his mouth and meeting his tongue with his own. Their tongues connected, tangling together.

They had made out before, and their hands slid into familiar positions, their tongues tasting familiar tastes. Derby's hand slid down to grope at Bif's butt, eliciting a moan and a blush. They pulled away slightly, gasping for breath, their foreheads touching.

"So," Derby was always like this; grabby and talkative, and it was a wonder sometimes they got anything done at all. His eyes were half-closed as he suddenly started sucking on Bif's bottom lip, biting gently and pulling away to attend to his neck. Bif mumbled something inaudible, his eyes fluttering closed as Derby placed hungry kisses down his neck, playing special attention on where his jaw met his neck. "You like your present?"

"Y-yeah." Bif stammered, his breath uneven as Derby started to suck on his neck, and he slid his hands into Derby's hair. Derby pulled away when he was sure that he had left a mark, gently nipping it.

"Good" he nearly purred, pulling away fully from Bif. The other boy stumbled from his chair, watching Derby as he walked across the room, leaving his body cold as he went to lock the door. He locked the other, and when Derby finally came striding back to Bif, he was overwhelmed with some more kisses, Bif's arms wrapped around his waist.

Derby bumped into the bar as Bif pushed him back slightly, arms wrapped around him. Derby groaned, arching into Bif as his fingers started to pull at the blonde haired boy's sweater, trying to get it over his head without breaking the kiss. He broke it for a few seconds, pulling the sweater over Derby's head and tossing it behind him as they continued their frenzied kissing, lips and teeth and tongue.

They parted once more, though reluctantly. Clothes needed to be shed, and they fumbled in mostly quiet silence, only the heavy pant of their breath, and the sound of rustling fabric. Bif's vest was taken off, and they both managed to step out of their shoes. Derby purred, nipping Bif's ear. "Couch" he ordered, and Bif complied.

It was amazingly awkward, trying to stumble all the way across the room while still kissing. But Derby felt the soft, old leather of the couch bump against the back of his leg, and he pushed Bif on the couch, climbing on top of him. Almost immediately they started to shed their remaining clothes, fumbling awkwardly.

"These buttons-!" Derby growled in frustration, his cheeks flushed as the buttons of Bif's dress shirt resisted him. He let out a small laugh, then a small "Oh-!" when Derby just started to snap them off, one by one.

"I'll buy you a new one." he answered simply, pushing the thin fabric off of Bif's shoulders. Bif smirked, kissing him, and undoing the buttons of Derby's shirt much more eloquently.

Derby ran his hands up Bif's chest, smirking. Bif blushed, smiling sheepishly back at him as Derby ran his hands appreciatively up his toned body. A fingernail scraped his nipple, and he let out a small gasp as Derby's fingers trailed lower, down towards his firm, flat stomach and the small amount of dark hair that trailed down, under his boxers. He undid Bif's belt, throwing it to the side.

Bif ran his hands up Derby's side, his hands rubbing up and his breath hitching in his throat as Derby hiked his pants down. Blue Aquaberry boxers- and god, he was so hard. Derby grabbed Bif's groin, squeezing and earning a needy moan.

"U-uhm, Derby, let me-"

"Shh." Derby kissed Bif, hand still on his crotch, his thumb rubbing him through the thin fabric. Bif flushed, moaning into his mouth shamelessly, returning the kiss with passion. But Derby pulled away, smirking. "We're trying something different this time."

Bif watched with half-lidded eyes, nodding and watching him intently as Derby hooked his fingers into the waistband of his boxers. He felt goose bumps rise up his legs as Derby slid his boxers off smoothly, throwing them to the ground. They had seen each other numerous times before, but every time seemed different. Bif blushed, feeling his toes curl slightly as Derby's soft hand touched his inner thigh, petting the pale skin.

Derby's blue eyes flitted over to Bif, then to his cock, grinning as Bif blushed darkly and looked away.

Which was just what he wanted. Bif missed the look of Derby taking in a deep breath, bringing up enough courage to lean down and lick the head of his shaft. A groan escaped Bif, and Derby smiled, licking up his whole shaft.

"Ahhn D-derby-!" He gripped the fabric of the couch, looking down as Derby took the tip of his hardness into his mouth. He sucked tentatively on the tip- this was a first for him, he was almost always the receiver in these situations- before pushing lower, the sounds of Bif's throaty moans reaching his ears.

Bif arched his hips, and Derby fought not to choke, his hands immediately holding down Bif's hips. The auburn haired boy pawed at the couch, his eyes focused on Derby's pretty lips around his shaft. Derby's eyes were on Bif, and if he could have, he would have smirked as his tongue massaged his shaft.

"Derby," His voice was husky with want, and he groaned as the blonde-haired boy pulled away, blowing on his wet shaft. He gave him a cheeky smile, licking him slowly. "_Derby_, unng"

He suddenly pulled away, sliding up Bif's body and capturing his lips in a kiss. Bif met him, pushing his tongue into his mouth, tasting him. He arched his hips up, grinding his bare hips against Derby's clothed ones. Bif's hands were yanking down Derby's boxers, still keeping the passionate kiss.

"W-wait!" Derby groaned, grabbing Bif's hips to keep him still. He stopped, holding back the pitiful whimper he wanted to make.

"What?" Bif asked, dumbfounded and feeling like a fool. Derby was panting, and he held his hips with an iron grip. He could feel his nails digging into skin and knew they would leave marks.

"I said, stop." His lips curled into an amused smile. "I already told you once, Bif, that we were going to do this differently," Bif had no idea how Derby managed to still keep his accent. He could barely keep his breath. "And I want to take it farther tonight."

Bif's eyes widened, and he ran a hand up Derby's side, rubbing his ribs absently. "Farther? Then well," he paused, trying to have his mind catch up to him, which was difficult since all of the blood was rushing to other places. "Do you mean?" Derby leaned forward, kissing him on the lips softly, pulling away even as Bif tried to pull him back.

Derby sat up on his legs, and he held out his left arm. On his wrist was a watch, much like Bif's, and he fiddled around with the dial. The top popped open, and he grabbed the small, colorful package out of the watch before closing the face of it back on. He waved the condom proudly, like a flag.

"Oh." Bif said dumbly, finding that his breath had hitched a little. He eyed the bright, square package, 'Trojan' emblazoned on it. Derby smirked, ripping the package open and pulling the plastic out. He leaned forward, placing a kiss on Bif's lips, before rolling the plastic over Bif's shaft.

"_Oh_." His eyes widened, and he arched a little into the deft touch. It felt odd, but not entirely unpleasant. "Derby, you? I think you're mistaken, I"

Derby arched an eyebrow, lying back on the couch. Bif scrambled to sit up, and Derby pulled him forward by his arm so that the other was draped over him. "What? Were you expecting different? Me bonking you?" He wrapped his arms around Bif's neck, pressing his face against the soft skin. The act was so soft, so gentle; Bif couldn't help but wrap his arms around Derby's waist, their bodies pressed together. "I never really thought of it happening any other way. Funny, how people think differently, isn't it?" His voice was muffled against his neck, and Bif sighed.

He ran a hand through his hair. "Are you sure?"

"Of course." Derby said stiffly, kissing Bif. Bif adjusted his position, his member rubbing against Derby, and his whole body stiffened. "Of course, I'm sure." he said again, letting out a deep breath, trying to relax his body. Bif's hands slid down his sides, trying to make him relax.

"Are you ready?" Bif asked softly, his hands firmly gripping Derby's hips. He felt his legs wrap around his waist, heels digging into his back. Derby pouted slightly.

"Of course," He murmured, trying to mask the look of apprehension. He turned, looking at the wall. Derby's whole body tensed again, and Bif pressed kisses against his lips, murmuring nonsense against his soft skin. He took a deep breath, relaxing slightly.

Bif pushed forward, and Derby _whined_. Bif stopped, eyes widening. "Are you-?"

"Keep going," he gasped, his face flushed. "Go slow, but keep going."

Bif tentatively pushed his hips forward, letting out a small groan as Derby tightened around him. He waited a little more, before pushing forward more. He kissed Derby, nibbling on his bottom lip. Derby responded to Bif with a sudden ferocity, his tongue pushing past his lips, and Bif groaned- using the moment to push in fully.

Derby gasped, his heels digging into Bif's back. He smiled softly, smothering Derby with kisses as he rocked his hips against Derby. It was _painful_, and it felt odd. He looked up at Bif, and had to let out a groan; his boxer's hair was plastered messily over his face, and the way he just looked at Derby was the sexiest thing he had ever seen.

"Bif" His voice was strained, and he had lost his British accent. Bif kissed Derby, wrapping his hand around his cock and starting to stroke it. Derby moaned, biting his lip as Bif started to thrust into him.

"Oh, god, nngh" Derby moaned, clinging to him tightly, his hand stroking Derby at the same pace. "Faster"

Their bodies melded together, their breath hot and heavy. Bif swore it was the best feeling of his life, pure ecstasy as he thrust into Derby, hearing him groan beneath him. He kissed him passionately, and Derby held Bif tight as their tongues tangled.

Bif's strokes were becoming faster, thrusting hard into him. He moaned, biting Derby's neck as he shuddered and yelled, arching and cumming. "Ahhn-!"

Derby's fingers dug into Bif's shoulder, and he arched, cumming into Bif's hand. The other jerked him off until he was spent, bodies trembling as they both collapsed, utterly exhausted.

They laid there for a few seconds, their breathing harsh. Bif was the first to catch his breath, and very slowly he pulled out of Derby. He pulled the condom off, making a face and getting up to go throw it away. Derby rolled onto his stomach, watching him quietly.

Bif flopped back on the couch, and Derby spooned him, sighing softly.

Bif turned around, and nuzzled Derby's neck, kissing him lazily. He pressed his face against the crook of his neck, yawning. He mumbled something against his neck, and Derby ran a hand through his hair. "Say again?"

"Never mind" Bif said softly, pulling away and leaning up to kiss Derby. Derby smiled, meeting him, and gently biting his lower lip with a smirk.

"Alright"

Derby slid his hands through Bif's hair, feeling his eyes droop. It wouldn't matter. They could stay for the night; the doors were locked, blinds drawn, and it was after hours. (People never broke into boxing clubs, anyway.) He yawned, resting his chin on top of Bif's head.

Bif placed his head on Derby's chest. He waited a few minutes, until his breathing slowed, and he just let himself listen to his heart thump slowly underneath his ear. "I love you" he murmured, lulled to sleep by the beating of his heart.

Th-thump. Th-thump.

* * *

Th-thump. Th-thump.

Derby's heart was fluttering like a caged bird. He swore it would burst if it went any faster. He didn't fear Bif, but the possibility of losing was high. And that scared him witless. He was running on adrenaline, determination, and desperation- if that couldn't pull him through the fight, well Derby didn't want to think about it. Spencer House didn't have the same ring to it.

His mouth had only just stopped bleeding, and his eye was slightly swollen. His jaw was sore, and the mostly faded bruise on his cheek had regained it's flattering colors. He stood up slowly, getting off of the stool. He couldn't show weakness, not now, not when he was facing it all.

"Are you ready, gentlemen?" Parker asked, idly flipping through the betting cash.

"Of course! Go ahead, Bif." Tad said, patting him on the back cheerfully. Derby nodded, pushing his stool back, and walking towards the center.

Bif was surprised at Derby's smug look, and his confident stride towards the center. Bif was faring much better than Derby, but he was still ragged; his eye had started to bruise. He raised his fists, and Derby did the same.

"I'm going to beat you." Derby said quietly. Bif said nothing, but his eyes thinned slightly, and his jaw seemed to clench.

The fighting was no-bars, all viciousness and spite. They held nothing back, especially Bif. He seemed to fight like his life itself depended on it. And Derby fought as hard because his life _did_ depend on it.

Derby dodged toward the left, ducking to avoid the high punch thrown by Bif. The next punch, towards his jaw, was met with his gloves, and even though he held up, Bif suddenly threw a tough punch towards his hands. He stumbled back a few steps, his hands going up and leaving him open.

Bif followed through ruthlessly, bright red glove connecting with Derby's pale face. His nose made a nasty noise that was unheard under the din of the crowd.

He took a few steps back, hands raised, and trying to bite back the pain. Derby blocked all of Bif's other punches, and managed to sneak in a few body blows.

They were starting to tire. Nobody else could really notice, but they could see it in each other. The pain was becoming obvious, and you could only rely on adrenaline to keep you moving for so long. But Derby knew Bif too well, and Bif knew Derby too well, and they only managed to get in a few punches each.

"I'm not going to lose," Derby gasped out, more to himself than Bif. His face hardened, and he punched at Derby's torso. He dodged, spinning, and landing a solid blow to Bif's nose. Blood splattered, and the crowd roared. "I _can't_ lose. It's impossible."

Bif grit his teeth in pain, holding his hands up to cover his face. "It's not impossible. Everybody falls some day, Harrington!"

"Not me!" Derby smirked, his eyes suddenly thinning, and Bif knew that something was about to happen. "You know that! Harringtons never lose!"

Derby lunged for Bif' side, and he took the bait, his hands falling away. He left himself open to a vicious left uppercut, followed just as quickly by a right. The crowd roared, mostly in surprise as Bif gasped and nearly fell over.

Bif's vision swam, and he staggered, trying to keep himself standing. His breath was coming out in shallow, ragged pants, and the dull roar of the crowd was null and void in his ears. Derby stared at him, flashing him a smug smile before he wound his arm back, and punched him square in the face.

He crumpled like a doll, falling heavy and hard onto the ground. Parker said something, but Bif couldn't hear anything in his ears, other than the pounding of his heart. He struggled to stand, getting up to his elbows, but his limbs gave out on him, and he fell back to the ground, face first. He could taste blood.

Derby crouched down, looking down at him. Bif's vision was fading, dark tendrils creeping out and threatening to overwhelm him. He growled, grunted, hoisting himself up again on his elbows, sticking a knee out to try to pull himself up. His limbs shook, but very, very slowly, he managed to get up, noticing that he had done so right when Parker was screaming "Nine!"

Bif put his hands up, weary and exhausted, blood gushing down his nose and his left eye swollen. "Come on!" he coughed. "Come on, Derby!"

Derby frowned, putting his hands out, and jabbing quick and fast. Bif dodged most of them, but one caught his face. He reeled back, and the punch was followed by a hard body blow. Bif went down again, the crowd cheering wildly as he just laid on his back, looking up at Harrington.

As he tried to roll over, tried to get up again, Bif noticed something. Derby wasn't smiling. There was no smugness, nothing in that look, and he just looked sort of distant and forlorn. He struggled to stand again, and fell. His vision clouded, and he just stared absently at Derby's well-polished shoes, which seemed to dance and multiply themselves right before his eyes.

Realization dawned, harder and sharper than any punch he had ever felt.

'_This is it,' _He thought incredulously, hearing the bell ring in the background. _'He has to bottle up his emotions, push me away, break friendships, belittle people, always act arrogant____ because of this___Another pair of shoes joined the ring, presumably Parker to congratulate the winner. _'He did this all for the others. This is the price. This is the price of face, to keep yourself looking dignified amongst your peers.'_

He felt footsteps around him as his vision darkened. Consciousness was slipping away like sand.

'_Was it worth it, Derby Harrington?'_

'_Was it worth it?'_

* * *

And the chorus _swells_!


	7. Retribution

The Price of Face

The Price of Face

Chapter 7: Retributions

Author's Note: No sex this time. D;

* * *

Tad's face had fallen somewhere between confusion and sadness. A bomb had dropped, and it took a few moments of general din and noise before he awoke from his shell-shocked state. Gritting his teeth behind a thin-lipped smile, he hoisted himself into the ring. He stepped over Bif, not looking down, striking out his hand in a bold motion towards Derby. "Congratulations, old chap." He was amazing himself with the control of his voice. "Boxing champion! I knew you had it in you!"

Derby turned, regarding Tad with a haughty air. He was sticky with sweat and blood, his eye swollen and blood caked on his lip. He had never looked more terrifying. He looked down at Tad's hand - smirking - and awkwardly grasping his hand with his boxing gloves. "Thank you, Spencer." His voice whistled slightly from his lost tooth. He shook his hand firmly, looking Tad in the eye. He averted his gaze downwards. "You put on a good show," Derby continued, the grip on Tad's hand becoming hard. "Not good enough, though."

Tad smiled, his eyes thinning. "Yes, not good enough." He jerked his arm forcefully away from the handshake, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his slacks. Derby smiled, pulling his gloves off, and tossing them to the ground. He looked towards Bif, and Derby walked over to the knocked out boy, bending down and hoisting him up by his armpits.

"Spencer, help me drag Bif to the locker rooms. Parker's a bit too busy to help."

The audience had swamped Parker at his tiny judge's table. Johnny and his boys were calling out for their money, and the majority of preps were accusing Parker of putting them down for the wrong side. (Though, everyone knew they were just being bad sports only because Vincent was walking away with eight thousand dollars, and even Pete Kowalski managed to gain two-hundred and eighty dollars from his meager bet of thirty-five. They had been the only ones to bet _for_ Harrington.) Now that Derby was the winner, of course everybody thought it was silly that Parker even thought they had the silly notion of Bif Tremblay winning. Bif! Bif who? Derby was the champion.

Tad snorted. He had lost five hundred dollars today, though it was the least of his losses at the current moment. "Of course." He grabbed Bif's feet - he was surprisingly heavy -and together they carried him out of the ring, all one hundred and fifty pounds of dead weight.

"Don't drop him!" Derby snapped, edging the door open with his shoulder. On the nearest lounge chairs, which were littered through out the locker room, they dumped the battered boy there. Tad frowned, dusting himself off.

Derby walked towards a locker. When Tad made a move to leave, he was stopped dead in his tracks by a low chuckle. "Are you… leaving, Spencer?" The hair on the back of Tad's neck stuck up, and he turned around, swallowing thickly.

"Of course not, Derby, I was just…" He fumbled for something to say, trying to ignore Derby's much too wide smile.

"I'm a very controlled person. But, even though you can't see it, I hope you realize how absolutely _furious_ I am with you." he said callously. Tad fidgeted uncomfortably as Derby undid the lock, throwing the door open. "I have half a mind to kick you out of Harrington House."

"Then do it!" Tad bristled, and Derby looked over at him with a sneer. "Kick me out, then, if you feel so inclined."

"I really ought to. But, I think I'll let you stay." Derby smiled as Tad's face fell. "No doubt, everybody else will be hesitant to even be seen with you after such a terribly public loss like that. I'll enjoy watching you _squirm_, Tad, like the despicable worm you are." he hissed, his jaw stiffened. Tad backed up a few steps, clenching his fists at his sides.

"You…" Tad never finished his sentence. There was a groan from the side, and they were both focused on Bif. Derby quickly grabbed the towel and first aid kit from the locker, walking towards the sink and wetting the towel. He came back, placing the cold rag over Bif's forehead.

Bif let out another groan, his eyebrows furrowing. Tad made a noise in the back of his throat, his arms crossed. "Touching…"

"Shut up, Spencer." Derby growled, pressing the rag against Bif's forehead. He left it there, turning back to the first-aid kit.

"You know, you would do better if you simply let Tremblay go to Nurse McRae."

"Good idea, Tad…" Derby said. "Why don't you carry Bif the mile or so it is to school?" Tad gave him a dirty look, which went unnoticed as Derby searched through the first aid kit.

"Your mouth is bleeding."

"It is..?" Derby reached up, touching his mouth. Pain flashed through him, and he hissed, drawing his hand back. That's right, he had lost that tooth, and he was still bleeding. He grabbed a box of tissues, taking a few, and stuffing into his mouth. Derby growled, trying to ignore the pain. He grumbled to himself, dragging a chair next to Bif, and pressing the cold rag up against Bif's forehead.

Bif's eyes fluttered open, and he groaned in pain. His nose and chin were throbbing duly. Derby was leaning over him, wincing and holding a wad of bloody tissues into his mouth. He noticed Bif as soon as he started to sit up, his face softening. "Are you alright?"

"Yeah," He sat up straight, the wet rag from his forehead falling wetly onto his lap. His voice was nasally. "Tissues?" Derby handed him the box, and Bif took a few, blowing his nose, and cleaning off the blood. It hurt, but not enough to be broken. He had his nose broken before, and this type of pain was much easier to deal with.

"Is it broken?"

"No…" He gazed down at the Kleenex, making a face and throwing it into a nearby trash bin. "It just hurts, that's all…" Bif's head was pounding, and he rubbed at his eyes.

"I could've sworn it was broken." Tad piped up from his seat on the bench. Bif's eyes snapped over to him, noticing his sour look and uneasy disposition. And then it hit him- the boxing match. He had fought against Derby, and had lost. And Derby… He frowned, picking up the rag and pressing his face into it.

"Derby really put a hammering on you. Really ruthless, really-"

"Shut _up_ Spencer." Derby snapped, wincing and pressing the tissues against his gum. He looked over at Bif - but he refused to even look at Derby. Instead, he stared angrily off to the side. "Would you mind fetching some Tylenol from the bar upstairs? Take your time." Derby said off-handedly, though it was obviously an order; not a suggestion. When Tad opened his mouth as if to protest, Derby's eyes thinned in a glare, and Tad sighed, heading towards the door.

"Of _course_, Derby…" He pushed open the door, the sound of people talking loudly reaching into the quiet room as the doors swung close behind him. Derby audibly sighed, looking over at Bif.

He was leaning over, his elbows on his knees and his face once again pressed into the rag. Bif was so still; Derby touched his shoulder to make sure he hadn't fallen asleep. "Bif?"

Bif flinched, pulling away from his touch violently, dropping the cloth to the ground. "Don't…" He shook his head slowly, pushing himself off the bench, and walking shakily towards the sinks. He leaned over one, hands tightly gripping the sides as he gazed at himself in the mirror.

Derby looked at him peculiarly, picking the rag up. He squeezed it in his hand, glaring down at it. "What do you mean, don't? You suddenly adverse to me touching you?"

Bif looked at Derby through the mirror, frowning. "The last time you touched me, if I recall, was you knocking me out cold."

"That was then," he said quickly. "Why does it matter? Because it doesn't."

Bif whirled, his face livid. "What do you _mean_, it doesn't matter! It doesn't matter! Are you absurd?" How dare he? It doesn't matter? He could feel bile in the back of his throat, he felt so disgusted.

Derby worried the rag in his hands, looking tense. "I beat you, Bif. It's over."

Bif gaped, opening his mouth, and then closed it. He shook his head, throwing his hands up in a grand gesture, and turning around to the sink again. He leaned against it heavily, a ragged sigh escaping him. "Why did you do it, Derby? I told you… I told you, I would go down…"

"Because I had to…" Derby's hands were wet from fingering the cloth, and he looked up at Bif. "You were going against me, what else was I supposed to do? Back down from a fight?"

"That's not the real reason. You and I both know that," Bif said slowly. Derby stood, walking over to the sink. "That's not the real reason…" Derby quietly stood next to Bif, putting the cloth under the sink and turning it on. He soaked it thoroughly, turning the sink off, and wringing it out. Bif watched him, gripping the sink. "It can't be…" Derby folded the towel, and very calmly, he turned to Bif and placed the rag against his forehead.

Bif closed his eyes, inhaling a shaky breath. "Let it go," Derby said softly. "It's over. It's done."

Bif's eyes opened wide, stark green and bright. He moved forward suddenly, pushing Derby against the wall as he pressed his lips against Derby's in a brutal kiss. Derby said nothing - gripping the rag still, and an arm snaking around his waist. Just as quickly, Bif bit Derby's lip, reopening the old wound, and he pulled his face away, keeping his body pressed against the startled boy.

"It's not done. Why'd you do it, Derby?"

Derby's eyes narrowed, and he turned his head away, his cheek pressed against the cold tile wall of the locker room. "I told you."

"You're going to lie to me?" Bif sounded hurt, and he gripped Derby's chin, twisting his head with some force. Derby growled, slapping Bif's hand away. Bif looked at him blankly, and when Derby made a move to push him away, he suddenly grabbed his hands and wrestled them above his head, pinning them to the wall. The wet rag fell to the ground with a plop. "Tell me now, Derby, just _tell_ me, before I lose all faith in you-"

Derby tore away from his grip, "Why?!" he yelled. "WHY?! You ask me, _why_, and you know why the hell I did it. I had to beat you, Bif!" Bif looked at him, shocked. "You're my god damn _weakness_. I _hate _weaknesses."

"You're my fears, you're my vices," And when Bif tried to push his lips onto him again, to just shut Derby up, to get him to start lying again, Derby threw his head back and away from the kisses. It was too far for lies now, and the answers were coming out. Even if Bif realized that maybe he didn't want to hear them. "You're my weakness, and you're my heart! You're everything that I should despise, that I should push away and defeat!"

Bif's mouth finally found Derby's, and he immediately thrust his tongue into his mouth. Derby groaned and arched; he tasted like blood and pain. Bif's tongue flicked over the gap in his tooth, and Derby yelled in his mouth, bucking his hips up and biting down.

Bif let go of his arms, swearing and pulling away. Derby was breathing heavily, grasping his cheek where his tooth had been. He leaned against the wall, shaken. "If I beat you, Bif," he said softly, his eyes glinting slightly. "Then I've beaten it all. Nothing else can bring me down."

Bif shook his head, "Just because you knocked me out, Derby, doesn't mean everything goes away! What happened doesn't go away, and what I know sure as hell doesn't go away! Vincent _did_ things to you!" He swung his arms out. "Look at all of this! You've accomplished nothing!"

"Why do you care?!" Derby snarled. "Why does it matter to you?! Forget what happened! Leave it be! Leave it alone!"

"I can't, Derby," He grit his teeth, turning around towards the door. "I can't… do that to you. I care too much to let you do that."

"Let me forget?" Derby stalked forward. "Isn't ignorance bliss? You'd do me a favor for letting me forget all about that night!" He was right behind Bif when he suddenly turned around. His eyes were slightly wet, and he had a look of utter frustration.

"Don't you get it! I love you too much to let you do this to yourself! You can't hurt yourself like this… you just can't! It isn't good for you…" Bif shook his head sadly, wiping quickly at his eyes.

Derby's eyes softened, and he looked at Bif, who couldn't meet his eyes. "Bif… I…" He looked away. It was so awkward. The anger and bitter air had replaced with such a stark emotion known as sadness. He couldn't even look at Bif. Those words… words as naked as that were suicide in Bullworth. He reached out to grab his arm, and Bif reeled away.

"Don't! Just… leave me be, Derby! You said it yourself; I'm nothing to you anyway! Just a tool!" He turned on his heel running out. Derby followed him, trying to grasp his shirt.

"Wait-!"

Bif bowled through the doors. There was a collective cry as the group of people that had their ears pressed against the door fell backwards. Bif said nothing- just strode through the crowd, choking down tears as he left the building loudly. People stared, absolutely silent.

Derby stood there, quietly, watching the door. He wondered numbly how much everyone had heard, how much they all knew now. He felt something press into his hand, and he grasped it before he even looked down. The sight of Tad on his ass would have made him laugh in any other circumstance.

"I… got your Tylenol."

* * *

"It's so…" Gord paused, letting out a loud, drawn-out sigh, "_Romantic._"

Parker fidgeted, moving closer to his side of the couch. Chad sighed, rolling his eyes. "There really isn't anything romantic to it. Embarrassing is more like it. You know that almost _everyone _heard those two?"

Gord frowned. "Yes, I know. Even though it was a little embarrassing that we heard something so…" Again, his eyes got that dreamy look, "Personal. Things happened that day that are more worthy of embarrassing. Like, a certain _someone _walking out in rumpled clothes…"

Chad tensed, throwing Gord a glare. "It wasn't my fault! He dragged me in there, and promptly told me to get undressed!" Parker stifled a snicker, and Chad's dark face suddenly had a tinge of red in it. "Oh, shove it…"

Parker smirked, leaning back, and placing his hands behind his head. "Well, I personally think the most embarrassing moment was when Vincent walked away with eight thousand dollars." Both Gord and Chad frowned. They had lost a lot that night. Everyone had been so sure… "Luckily, I didn't put anything down."

"Of course you didn't. You were the judge…" Gord fretted. Chad sighed, suddenly nabbing the controller from Parker's side. He started to flick through the channels.

"Though, I think we can all agree…" Chad said softly, looking over his shoulder, "That the most embarrassing thing was Spencer."

The two murmured in agreement. "It's a shame." Parker shook his head. "But, it was a brilliant fight, all the same."

"I, for one, am surprised he's still here." Gord said in hushed tones, leaning towards the two others so that he wouldn't have to speak loudly, "I think Derby would have dropped him if it wasn't for the recent scandalous gossip that's surfaced about him and Bif."

"It's not exactly gossip when you hear it yourself," Chad said, "We _all_ heard what they said. Well… most parts of it."

"I still swear one of them said something about Vincent…" Parker muttered.

"You also have horrible hearing." Gord said dryly, "The only thing we can agree on is that Tremblay said 'Love'. Everybody else has a different side to the story."

Parker chuckled, "You know, Tad swears he heard them groaning."

"Pervert." Gord scoffed. Both Chad and Parker glanced over at him. Gord blushed, glaring angrily at them. "What? Don't look at me like that!" He suddenly snatched the remote control from Chad, crossing his arms as he stabbed his fingers into the numbers. Chad reached for it, but Gord pulled away out of Chad's reach.

"Nope, that's it! We're watching Lifetime for that!" he said with determination, "You two think you're clever, huh…?" Gord pouted, and Parker stifled another laugh as Chad groaned and threw up his hands.

"Channel for women! For women!"

"Oh, bugger off, messy clothes!"

"That wasn't my fault-!"

* * *

Derby tapped his new tooth, marveling it in the mirror. He didn't even feel his touches. Though at the moment, he really couldn't feel much at all. He had gotten a nice dose of morphine from the doctor at his father's request after moaning for a whole day about how utterly painful it was. Right about now, he was feeling weightless, a bit groggy, and weirdly perky. He smiled, pulling himself away from the mirror, and walking towards his bed, flopping down onto it.

It probably wasn't wise for his father to send him back to school on powerful pain tolerance drugs- but Derby didn't care. He had demanded to be sent back to school once he got them so he wouldn't look too disheveled. Everything was in a state of limbo right now, and he had to be there to make sure nothing bad happened. A drugged-up king is better than none at all.

Derby rolled onto his side, noticing his digital clock on the nightstand. '12:45.' Everybody else was just finishing up lunch by now. Of course, he had gotten the whole week off from having to attend classes, so he didn't have to bother himself with the time at the moment.

'_I just got my allowance this week…' _he thought, smiling up at the ceiling, _'I'll take off an extra week in math. Hattrickwill get me an A for the upcoming test…'_ He idly tapped his new tooth, his mind feeling fuzzy. It was awhile before he realized that the hollow noise he heard wasn't from his tooth, but was coming from the door. Derby let out a small, spontaneous giggle, "Oh! Who is it?"

"You've just come back from home, haven't you?" Chad asked in a meek voice, "Are you alright? Are you _decent_?"

"Of course," Derby sat up in bed, tucking his hands behind his head and crossing his legs. "All I got was a new tooth. Now stop being daft, and come in." Chad pushed the door open, and Derby sighed. "It's silly, isn't it, talking through a door. Now, what is it that you wanted to tell me?" Chad stood awkwardly in Derby's grandiose room, rubbing his bandaged hand.

"Well…" he looked to the side, clearing his throat, "Ah, how rude of me… how did everything go? The surgery?"

"Splendidly." Derby grinned widely, his foot bouncing.

Chad arched an eyebrow at him. "Are you in pain?"

"Of course not!" Just as he suspected. Chad visibly relaxed. "I've taken some pills…"

"Well, that's marvelous," Chad said hurriedly, cutting in before Derby had a chance to say anything else, "But, I've got something important. It's a message for you." Derby watched him silently as he fished a note out of his back pocket. It was a small square of lined paper, with 'Give to Derby' written in chunky letters on the front. He handed it over to him. "This was passed to me from Constantinos in English, and he had gotten it from Bo, and, well…" He trailed off as Derby let out a drug-induced laugh, finding the fact he had nearly ripped the paper in half when unfolding it hilarious. "I don't know who the note is originally from. But, I didn't read it!"

Derby nodded, and Chad watched quietly as he started to read the note. Derby's serene, happy face suddenly darkened, and he gripped the paper tightly. When he had at last finished, he looked over the last line, reading it so many times that he was mouthing it to himself.

When he looked up to glare, maybe yell something meaningless at Chad, he was met with air.

Chad was out of breath, his chest heaving as he suddenly stopped running like a maniac. The dirt wasn't kind to his wooden Aquaberry shoes; he tripped over his feet, his momentum still carrying him forward into Parker's back. They both fell over onto the ground with a yell, face first into the brown grass of fall.

"Chad! What's wrong with you?!" Parker yelled, pushing him off roughly, and squirming out from under him. Chad sat back on the ground, grasping his chest, and still trying to catch his breath. Parker sighed, picking dirt off of his sweater.

"I believe you, Parker!" Chad gasped. And when Parker gave him a questioning look, he held up a finger, taking another sweet gulp of air before continuing, "When I gave the note, he got so upset… I saw him… he mouthed Vincent. Johnny Vincent."

Parker's eyes narrowed, and he stood slowly, holding out a hand for Chad. Chad pulled himself up with his help, dusting his clothes off diligently. "I knew it!" Parker said. "Poor hearing be damned, I knew it…" He paused, looking around. The area around Harrington House looked empty, but… Chad motioned back towards the door, and they moved into the dormitory, walking towards the living room, and sitting on the couch.

"…So," Parker began slowly, seeing that there was nobody else around, "The note was definitely from Johnny Vincent…"

"I think so…" He rubbed his hand nervously. "I… never actually read it."

Parker gaped. "You…?" Chad shrugged hopelessly. "No wonder they gave it to you…"

"But, I think Vincent did send it to him…"

"So, what do you think that means in all of this?"

Chad shrugged, nabbing the remote control from the coffee table, and turning the television on. "I don't know, maybe… oh." His face fell. "What if… Bif had _really _said I love you…"

Parker's eyes widened. "And… Derby said that he was in love with Vincent?"

Chad frowned, shaking his head. "No, that can't be right. That's _absurd_. Harrington would never stoop down to Vincent." He tapped the remote against his chin in thought.

"What if, though? Hasn't Harrington done some odd things when he got bored? What if Bif found out about some lurid affair between Derby and Johnny-?"

"Derby and Johnny are having an affair!?" Gord suddenly popped up from behind the couch, shouting. Chad's face turned ashen, and Parker nearly keeled over from fright. Gord was totally oblivious, his face flushed as he pressed a hand against his forehead. "My god! It's like that show I watched, oh, where there was a terrible love triangle, and Sue got pregnant with George's baby-" he rambled, stopped only by Parker suddenly lashing out, and clamping a hand over his mouth.

"Shh! Keep it down, Gord, we don't know who could be listening…" he hissed. Gord frowned making a face- and Parker shrieked, snapping his hand back so hard he accidentally hit Chad in the face.

"Ow! What the bloody hell-"

"He _licked_ me!" He cried indignantly, rubbing his hand furiously on the couch, "My god, he _licked me!_"

Gord smirked, crossing his arms and waggling his tongue at Parker. He turned a light shade of green, rubbing his hand harder against the couch.

Chad scoffed, waving the remote controller at him, "You're going to give yourself brush burn."

Gord rolled his eyes at Parker's frantic movements. "But, what if Derby and Johnny _are_ having an affair?"

"Derby and Johnny are having an affair?" A voice from the left corridor suddenly asked. All three turned, and Tad stepped out, looking smug as he ran a hand through his hair. The couch trio's faces all turned sour as they gazed at him. "That's interesting." he said softly, his eyes glinting slightly as he tucked his hands behind his back.

"Its just rumors, Spencer." Gord said briskly.

"Nothing concrete yet." Parker affirmed.

"I doubt it's even true…" Chad murmured with a shrug. The air had suddenly turned tense, but Tad was relaxed, his shoulders back, and his face in a soft smile. He laughed.

"Oh? But, you two had such great points…" he said, eyeing Chad and Parker, "Vincent sent Derby a letter, most likely either saying that he wanted to break up, or even something worse…" When Gord leaned forward, obviously entranced by his smooth words, he shrugged slightly. "Like, I don't know… since we heard things, maybe they're deciding to finally come out and combine the cliques?"

Gord gasped dramatically, "No!" Chad and Parker shot him a dirty look, and he blushed and collected himself. "I mean… that's funny, Tad, but highly unlikely."

"I see…" Tad smirked, tilting his chin up, and looking over at the three. He had planted a seed, and it would grow on it's own accord. His eyes then traveled over to the TV. His face suddenly fell blank.

"You're watching Lifetime?"

Gord snickered, "Wasn't my choice…"

Chad dropped the controller like it was on fire, looking violated. "I didn't mean too…! It was left on this channel, I swear! I just turned it on!"

Gord patted Chad's shoulder, grinning. "Don't be ashamed." He paused, picking off a bit of dirt that still clung onto Chad's shirt from his tumble outside. "Oh, and by the way, your clothes are dirty."

Chad shot him a sour look. Only Parker noticed Tad slipping away upstairs, a smile on his face.

* * *

Yaay, so, thanks for the reviews. Oh, and I killed two birds with one stone- other then getting a huge self-esteem boost, I caught all of you sneaky people who just lurk and don't review! ;D You know what that means? YOU MUST REVIEW NOW! (I know where you live.)

Oh god, Chad/Parker/Gord is my OT3. XD And Tad? YOU GO TAD! I love all characters, even the 'bad guys'. The next chapter… will take a while to write. Of course, like always, reviews help and all.


	8. Coming to Terms

Chapter 8: Coming to Terms

* * *

The sky was darker than it should have been. Even though it was night, it was stifling. There were more clouds in the sky than black Cadillacs outside a funeral- and they hung heavy and morose. They smothered the moon and the stars, a bleak background for the equally bleak Bullworth Vale Gardens.

The wind was strong, and the few leaves left were being plucked off of the trees- floating in a whirl toward the ground. His boots fell heavy against the ground, crunching them underneath. He cursed as his foot struck a stick, and he stumbled, cursing lightly. His pace continued onward though, through the empty park, coat pulled closer to his body to keep out the wind.

He leaned against a tree that was one of the few that still had leaves on it. It offered him temporary sanctuary from the wind, and he huddled behind it, grumbling, shoving his hands into his pockets. He fumbled for a bit, finally finding what he wanted.

'_What's that Spanish word….?'_ Smoke curled through the treetops, and when a leaf fell in his hair, he brushed it off quickly, sighing. He took a drag of his cigarette, blowing out.

Oh. He remembered.

"Deja-vu."Johnny said to the wind, who howled in reply. He sighed, finally giving into the wind, and zipping his leather jacket up. His cigarette dangled in between his lips, and he shoved his hands into his pockets, looking around.

Almost deja-vu. There was no Peanut. And there was no Bif.

He stood there, leaning against the tree. Minutes passed, and Johnny smoked away, occasionally pushing his sleeve up to look at his watch. When a figure appeared near the entrance, he tensed and stood straight- but it was just a random hobo, slurring and stumbling past him without a second thought. Johnny scowled, sinking back into the shadow of the tree. Ten minutes passed. Then twenty. His toes were starting to go numb, and he stomped his cigarette into the ground.

"… Fuck this." he suddenly growled, tearing himself away from the tree. It was no use waiting anymore. He wasn't coming. What a prick. He strode angrily towards the exit, his head down as he braved through the wind.

Something hard hit his shoulder, and he looked up as the other person brushed him off. "Watch it, you disgusting low life!"

"Harrington-!" Johnny yelled out. He knew that voice from anywhere, and Derby whirled suddenly, looking at Vincent with wide eyes. He stiffened, straightening his stance. He was wearing a duffel coat, and it seemed to dwarf him.

"Oh," His face was barely discernable in the dark light, and Johnny motioned towards the tree. He followed. "You were leaving?"

"I thought you backed out on me."

Derby was silent for a few seconds before saying slowly, "No. It took some time before I actually found out where you were." They approached the tree, and Johnny leaned against it- Derby standing off to the side. The clouds had lightened slightly, and Johnny could see Harrington's face; a cold monotone. His face had lost the old bruise on his cheek, but he had gained a cut lower lip and a slightly mottled left eye. "I had to… convince a certain someone to tell me." Even though his voice was haughty, his face didn't change.

Johnny shifted uncomfortably, resisting the urge to grab a cigarette. "Convince? Bif didn't tell ya?"

Derby looked away, towards the clouds. "No." he said simply, "No. Peanut did." Johnny glared.

"What?!"

"I'm sorry I had to shake your boyfriend around to find out where you were." he said, sounding bored. Johnny tensed, clutching his fists at his side. Silence fell over the two, and the wind picked up. "But the letter was so vague, it was hard to tell what you even wanted to do. Your handwriting is horribly messy, by the way."

Johnny frowned, grumbling and shrugging his shoulders hopelessly. Derby scowled, and the two fell into a thick silence. When Johnny started to reach into his pockets for a cigarette, Derby broke the silence.

"So…? You're the one who requested a meeting. What did you want to say?" he said. Johnny nodded.

"Well… you remember what happened," He didn't wait for Derby to say anything, noticing the way he seemed to tense, almost bristled. "That night. I wasn't…" Johnny was struggling with words. "Of right mind."

"What do you mean? You do have the brain of a Neanderthal, but you weren't drinking." Derby said scathingly, glaring at Johnny, "I didn't _taste_ any alcohol."

He held up his hands. "Hey, I'm not done. I wasn't drunk. It's just… you know." Derby tilted his head up, looking down at him, and Johnny elaborated, "When you finally beat the enemy, and he's beggin' you to _let him go_. You were so weak." He couldn't help but grin, not even noticing Derby suddenly clench his fists. "And I… dominated you. It feels good, beatin' the shit outta someone, especially-"

He barely managed to dodge the punch, feeling Derby's fist barely graze the hairs of his head. "What the bloody hell did you drag me here for?!" Derby took up a boxing stance. "To mock me! You bastard-!"

"No! You didn't let me finish, rich boy-!" Johnny was backed against the tree, tense and vulnerable. "Just… let me talk. Don't knock me out yet. I didn't come here to fight. If I did, don't ya think I would have at least brought some people, or a weapon or two?"

Derby was seething. He let out a heavy breath, clenching his teeth. "Start talking."

"As I was saying," Johnny began, eyeing him carefully, "It feels _good_ beatin' the shit outta someone, but what I did past that… I shouldn't have." Derby's hands fell slightly, and Johnny sighed, "I don't know what happened, and, look, I…" he stopped, chewing on his lip, and running a hand through his hair. Johnny suddenly stuffed a hand into his pocket, pulling out something.

It was a fat wad of cash, and he handed it to Derby. "There. It's my winnings. Eight thousand. It should pay back any damage I did, plus… keep this quiet?" he said earnestly.

Derby looked at Johnny. He chuckled softly; it came from the back of his throat, deep, and rumbled out, turning into a full blow laugh. Johnny smiled nervously as Derby threw his head back, indulging in the laugh, and then becoming doubled-over in laughter, clutching at his stomach.

He straightened himself out, still chuckling, a grin on his face. Derby smacked Johnny's hand, and the bills fell out. The wind snatched them up greedily, mistaking them for some leaves, and bore them away. Johnny yelled in sheer shock, running after the bills as Derby just stood there, still laughing softly.

"Eight thousand dollars…? Ahh… hahaha! Eight… thousand dollars! Who are you talking to, Vincent?!" Derby yelled to Johnny as he chased the bills around the park, his voice malicious, "It means nothing to me! Nothing! You're a right prick, you know that? Trying to pay me off! You're dumber than I thought!"

And he started to laugh again as Johnny chased the last green leaves that existed in the park around, cursing at the wind.

"You fuck!" Johnny yelled shrilly, clutching around five thousand in hundred dollar bills in his one fist, chasing two others, "I can't believe- Jesus Christ, I'm glad I did it! I'm glad!" The wind let up slightly, and the two bills he was chasing fell to the ground. He scrambled to grab them, tucking the first into his fist, then grabbing the other.

The loafer came down on the bill, stepping on the tips of his fingers. Johnny yelped, yanking his fingers back, and looking up at the tall figure.

Bif shrugged. "Oops." He bent down, picking up the bill. He handed that to Vincent, along with a few others he had caught. Johnny looked at him numbly, taking the money. "… You're welcome?" He prompted, wrinkling his nose. Greasers…

"…Thanks." Johnny said slowly, turning to watch as Bif walked right past him, towards Derby. Harrington had stopped laughing, looking as shocked as Johnny.

Bif stopped a few feet in front of Derby, standing there. They stared each other down quietly, and Derby finally said the first thing that came to mind: "…. Aren't you cold?" The words cut through the silence, and Bif looked away, focusing on Johnny Vincent- who was trying to grab a bill caught in the branches by jumping.

Bif shrugged again. He was only wearing his sweater, and his cheeks were flushed from the wind. "I didn't have time to really get a jacket. Peanut came after me, trying to revenge the black eye you gave him." He focused on Derby.

"Oh, well, I hope he didn't cause too much trouble." Derby said politely, trying to delay the inevitable question.

They both turned to see Johnny trotting over, looking winded out. He was breathing heavily, and he quickly stuffed what he could catch of his money back into the deep pockets of his coat. Derby glared at him, and Johnny frowned.

"Like… like I was sayin'." Johnny said, regaining his cool, "If you don't want my apology, fine. It's not like you're hurting my feelings, rich boy. I try to make nice, but, whatever."

"You never apologized." Bif said suddenly, startling Johnny, "You never actually said, 'I'm sorry for raping you.'"

"It wasn't rape!" Derby snapped, taking a step towards Bif. Johnny backed away from the two. Bif frowned, wrinkling his bandaged nose. "What gave you the permission to snoop through my business, Tremblay? I already told you to let it go."

"I can't. I'm not!" Bif frowned, taking a determined step forward, forcing Derby to take a step back. "I'm not leaving you yet. I can't… push you away so easily."

Derby glared at Bif. "I don't know what you're talking about. Nothing ever happened." Johnny stared at them both, silent. They were talking in riddles.

"Tell me what happened, Johnny." Bif said suddenly, keeping eye contact with Derby, "I never really heard the whole story."

Johnny blinked, grabbing a comb from his pocket and running it through his hair. "W-well…" Derby's jaw tightened, and he crossed his arms, glaring harder at Bif.

"You know, I jumped him in the bar. His back was turned, but he caught me in the stomach with his shoulder, and then punched me… We tangled for a little, and I eventually brought him down to the ground… then, some things happened."

Derby grit his teeth, still staring at Bif. They hadn't broken eye contact, and Johnny fidgeted.

"Like?" Bif prompted.

Johnny's face colored with shame. "I asked him some questions."

Derby took a threatening step forward, towards Johnny, finally looking away from Bif. "And then some things happened. I already told you most of it; you've got the basics down, and that's all you need to know."

"What about this are you not telling me?" Bif asked, and then looked over at Johnny. Johnny stuffed his hands into his pockets, feeling the weight of both of their gazes.

"I made him tell me who the handsomest clique leader was." Johnny said slowly, watching as Derby's face twisted into a look of rage, "And he said-"

Derby was wide-eyed, his fists balled. "Why are you telling him this?"

"He said me. Johnny Vincent." he suddenly spoke, much more loudly than needed, "And then I asked, why did he think I was handsome? And… I smacked him a little, and he was blubbering by then, and he said because I was good looking or somthin'; I think he mentioned personality too," Johnny was rambling, "And then I started kissing your neck, biting, licking-"

"Shut up!" Derby screamed, "Shut up, you pauper, you dirty bastard!" He lunged for Johnny, and Bif tackled him to the ground. Johnny kept rambling on. He didn't really know why- maybe it was because he needed to tell _someone_, maybe it was because Derby was getting that same look he had at the club in his eyes again.

"You were moaning." Derby fought against Bif's grip, but Bif growled and held him down to the ground, his eyes focused on Johnny. "I groped you a bit, y'know? And you kept moaning. You tried not to, but you still did. And you looked so… hurt. And I kept doing it. I even started to grind up against you, and you _responded_, even if you were so ashamed." Derby hissed as Bif's grip on his wrists unconsciously tightened, digging into his skin. "And then you came, right after I came. We laid there for a little, and then you punched me."

Derby held still, letting Bif hold his wrists down. He had his hands curled into fists, his fingernails biting into the flesh of his palm. They were both waiting for Johnny's last words, and it was eerily silent as the greaser fished through his pockets, pulling out a cigarette, and lighting it slowly.

"And you lost. I said, 'I won', and you had nothing to say. Kinda funny. You always have something to say." he said softly, blowing the smoke out into the air. The wind howled, and Derby exhaled slowly. He was just looking off to the side, jaw clenched, that same look he had when it was Johnny that had him pinned under.

"… I didn't lose," he said softly, "Harringtons don't lose. I didn't lose."

Bif frowned at him, shaking his head and sighing. He pulled off of Derby, sitting next to him on the leaves. Johnny's hands were shaking, and he took a long drag of his cigarette as Derby sat up, looking at Bif. His back was to him.

"Huh. Guess I told Peanut wrong. Harringtons don't always come bouncing back." Johnny mumbled to himself.

"You can't do that if you don't lose." Bif said.

"But I never lost… I don't need to 'bounce back'."

Derby stiffened. Johnny shrugged, and Bif just sighed. They were there, in awkward silence, before Johnny finally spoke, clearing his throat.

"I think I'm going to go. Curfew is hitting." He dropped his cigarette, stomping on it quickly. He didn't say any good byes- he just left, the wind howling at his back. Derby watched him go, and Bif stood from the ground, shivering and leaning against the tree. Derby stood too, brushing dirt off of his coat.

"If you didn't lose, what did you do? Did you win?"

Derby was silent.

"Did you reach a tie?"

Derby said nothing, and Bif hung his head. "Because, if you won, what did you win, Derby? It seems like you won. You won a new tooth. You won a few bruises. Seems like a nice win," he said, his teeth chattering in the cold, "Considering your losses. You only lost a few things. Your self-image. Me." He turned, and started to walk away. "Congratulations."

"Wait!" Derby yelled, running after him.

Bif kept walking.

"Bif! Bif!" He was walking away, maybe for good this time. Derby stopped, his heels digging into the dirt. "Don't… don't you walk away from me, Tremblay!" When Bif kept walking, Derby panicked, starting to run towards him again. "I thought you cared about me!" he shouted.

Bif stopped, looking over his shoulder. Derby froze in his place, watching him. Bif's face was twisted into a confused, hurt frown, and he was obviously thinking. Derby knew he wouldn't walk away. Bif could never walk away from him. He always came back, like tonight, like tomorrow, and like it will always be.

Bif took a tentative step forward, eyes still on Derby. He looked so sad. "I'll bring your class work to you tomorrow. Good night, Derby." He turned, pushing forward through the leaves.

Derby blinked, watching him leave - the wind nipping at his heels. "Bif?" There was nothing in reply. Bif kept walking. "Bif?" He had lost him. He wrapped his arms around his waist, staring off into the darkness. There was a dull ache in the bottom of his stomach, and he started to trudge slowly through the leaves, wanting to get out of the wind but not wanting to catch up to Bif like the sick puppy he was. The streets were empty, and he walked back towards school.

'_He really walked away,'_ he thought incredulously, passing the closed Aquaberry store. _'He really left me there. I couldn't get him to stop. I lost him.' _What a foreign thought; Derby Harrington, being denied. These whole two weeks had been filled with foreign thoughts, feelings, actions, and ideas. None of them seemed really that pleasant. _'I lost him.'_

Derby suddenly stopped, looking up into the dark sky. Out of nowhere, he started to run, across the bridge and towards school.

* * *

Derby trudged into Harrington House, closing the door behind him. He pushed through the foyer, opening the doors more softly this time as he walked into the living room. He almost immediately shed his coat, throwing it to the ground. It looked like he was nearly trying to _leap_ out of his shoes, stumbling slightly as the loafers fell to the ground in the middle of the room. Once they were both off, he bounded up the stairs two at a time.

He opened the door to his bedroom loudly, knocking over an empty trashcan. He let out his breath, which he hadn't even realized he had been holding. "I knew it. I knew you would be here." And thank god he had, because if he hadn't found Bif lying on his bed, he would have cracked right then and there.

Bif smiled sadly. "I don't know who's worst; me, or you. We're so predictable it's discerning." He looked slightly forlorn, head on Derby's pillow. "I really tried to walk away…" he mumbled to himself.

Derby closed the door behind him. Bif propped himself up on an elbow, lounging on top of Derby's bed like he had always belonged there. "Look, Bif…"

"I shouldn't be doing this for you. I'm like that friend you see on those horrible soap operas, the one that knows the main character is doing drugs, but still gives him money for 'food'. God, the acting was so terrible in that show, I'm so glad I don't watch TV with Gord anymore-"

"_Bif_." Derby interrupted, and Bif fell silent- his face flushing with shame and embarrassment. "Stop… Stop talking." Bif sat up, and Derby took a small step forward, his arms out slightly, like he was ready to corner Bif if he had to.

"I shouldn't be here." He said quietly, his face thoughtful. "I should just leave you to your own devices, because that's all you're ever going to do. You never listen to anyone but yourself. All for you." He shook his head, not noticing the poorly masked expression of hurt on Derby's face. "And why do I always come back…?"

"I'm glad you came." Derby said quickly. "I need to talk to you." Bif frowned, and Derby sighed.

"I lost."

"That's preposterous. Harringtons can't lose." Bif said, mockingly, before adding quickly in a flatter tone: "Don't humor me, Derby. I'll just leave now." He moved to get off the bed, but Derby crossed the floor in a few quick strides, blocking him. They stared at each other for a few seconds, and before Bif could make a move to push past Derby, he started to speak:

"Look," Derby chewed his lip, unconsciously reaching for Bif's arm, something tangible to help him get the words out. "I don't like thinking about it. You really wouldn't either. It's one of those things you'll always remember, and he'll always remember it. And I can't see how I couldn't have prevented it, or at least beat him before he got to me, I just…" He gripped Bif's forearm tightly, and Bif pulled him close, exhaling hard. Derby pressed his face into the warm crook of his neck, his thumb rubbing the fine fabric of his sweater. "I lost, god damn it. Are you happy? I lost to Vincent, and then I broke down like a downtrodden housewife on Zoloft. Terrible. I nearly lost you." His voice was strained, and he pushed forward slightly, trying to engulf himself in the embrace. Bif indulged him, holding him closer. "It clouded my head. I was furious. How could I lose? I blamed myself, and then found an enemy in everyone. First you, then Tad, then… God," His voice was wavering, and the grip on Bif's sleeve was tight. "I'm a fool…"

Bif's arms wrapped around him tightly, and he rubbed his back. Derby let out a few, shallow, quick gulps of air, but regained himself as he twisted and pulled at the fabric of Bif's sleeve. He looked up from his neck, smiling lightly.

Bif smiled back. "You know… my mother is a housewife, and taking Zoloft. She'd take offense."

Derby's smile cracked into a grin, and he let out a small giggle. It grew into a laugh, and he pressed his face into the crook of Bif's neck again. Bif didn't realize it had turned into tears until his neck was damp and warm. Bif frowned, gripping at Derby's back, and Derby pawed at Bif's arm, stretching the fabric terribly. His body trembled, and a small whimper escaped him. "Derby…" He pulled Derby's face away from his neck, and Derby hiccupped, looking away from Bif's eyes. He was a mess, his face red, and wet trails down his face.

One of Bif's hands cradled his face, and he kissed him as Derby sniffled, holding back a full-out sob. His lips touched the corner of Derby's eyes, salty and sad. Their eyes connected, and Derby's face fell. He let out a small sob, and he broke down completely. Bif let go of his face, startled.

"I'm such a fool! A god damned fool!" He sobbed, fat tears running down his face. His whole body shook, and he couldn't even look at Bif. "I-i… I nearly lost the House, I nearly lost you…!" That was all he could manage to cry before he was completely lost in sobbing, words pouring out incomprehensibly between tears. Bif gripped Derby in a tight hug, rocking slightly as Derby cried against him. He blubbered for a while, totally wrecking Bif's sleeve as he poured his heart out in front of Bif.

The grip on his sleeve loosened, and reluctantly, Derby's hand parted from the abused fabric, wrapping instead around Bif's waist. They stood embraced for a few seconds, Bif allowing Derby to recompose himself, and catch his breath. He shook his head softly, looking up at Bif. There was so much to say, but Derby oddly lacked the words, and he just stood there, silent.

He ran another hand through that blonde hair, smoothing it over a few times, his hands caressing his face. "I'm sorry, Derby. I'm sorry, that everything happened to you, that it all had to happen."

Derby averted his eyes, sighing. "But, I've got to get over it. I can't let it hold me back, can't dwell on it, because if I do-" He looked back at Bif, catching him just as his hands held his face, capturing his lips in a kiss. His eyes widened slightly, but he melted into the contact, passionate and soft. Bif stole the breath right out of him, pulling away with a flushed face and a lopsided smile.

"You've already admitted your faults. We can get through the rest together." he said softly, his hands dropping to his hips.

Derby nodded, sighing and wrapping his arms around him. He pressed against Bif, closing his eyes. "Let's just go to bed. I'm so tired…"

Bif gave him a tight hug, pressing a kiss against his forehead. "Of course…" He was so emotionally drained, he would have agreed to anything. And the last thing he wanted to do was retire to his cold, lonely bedroom.

They both quietly undressed, tossing sweaters and shirts and slacks to the floor. The light was turned off. Derby climbed into bed first, and Bif climbed in after. Derby sighed pleasantly, pulling Bif close and closing his eyes as he rested his head against his chest. Bif raked his hands through Derby's hair, listening as his breathing eventually slowed.

Bif couldn't fall asleep for a while, just staring down at Derby. He let out a ragged sigh, closing his eyes, still running his hands through Derby's soft hair.

"I still love you, Derby. I still love you…" Who the bigger fool was in this bed, Bif didn't know, but he could let the thinking go until tomorrow.

* * *

Ahhh, so melancholy. I want a Bif teddy bear, he's so sweet… This chapter was so sad compared to last. So, two more chapters guys! Whoooh!


	9. Coup d'Etat

The Price of Face  
Chapter 9: Coup d'Etat

Note: Thank you for all the reviews! We reached number six, so I am posting the comic up on 9/23/07 on the bully-bl community on LJ, plus a few extra sketches not related to the story.

**EDIT: Thanks for pointing out my chapter error! This is now the correct chapter!!**

Also, everybody praise awesome Airenko for betaing! ;D

* * *

Derby yawned, rolling onto his side. His bed was warm- a contrast to the howling, bitter winds outside. A branch was scraping against the windowpane, and he murmured discontentedly, pulling his blankets up.

_Scccrrrrrrch_.

It was a horrible noise. The kind that could wake a person out of a dead sleep. He tried to ignore the sound, but the wind was relentlessly playing the branch against his window to make a miniature musical of screeches and taps. Derby groaned, rolling onto his back, opening his eyes slowly. His room was filled with a dull gray light. He hated mornings like this. It was hard enough being awake at such an early time, but it was even worse when the whole world seemed more melancholy about awaking than you were. He rubbed his eyes slowly, exhaling loudly, and stretching in his bed, trying to rub away the last remnants of sleep.

"Good morning."

"Bloody hell!" Derby sat straight up in bed, much to the amusement of Bif who was standing in the doorway of the bathroom. He had a towel tucked around his waist, and his hair was still wet from the shower he had just taken. "That's not really fair. I'm the one who's supposed to scare you."

"I'm sorry, my mistake, " Bif said, smiling happily. Derby sighed hopelessly, though he was still smiling. "I thought you were awake."

"Only partially…" The blankets pooled at his waist, and he leaned against his headboard, watching as Bif walked fully into the room, still clutching onto his towel. Derby let out a short laugh as Bif started to rummage through _his_ dresser, trying to find something that would fit. "Could I help you, sir?" he asked, trying to sound like the highly annoying salesperson at Aquaberry.

Bif shook his hips slightly; water still clung to his pale skin. "Yes, I'd like a pair of pants, a shirt, and a vest…" He started to list the items as he plucked them out of his dresser, turning to his closet to go fetch himself some more of Derby's clothes.

"You have quite the audacity to expect this all for free," Derby pointed out bluntly.

Bif laughed, dropping his towel. Derby couldn't help but flush as he started to tug on a dress shirt, quickly covering up exposed skin. "You still owe me a shirt, at least. Remember?"

Derby's eyes seemed to sparkle. Of course he remembered that night. Happier, more innocent times… "I remember. Go ahead. Take a shirt. And a pair of pants…" he continued, smiling. "And…" he paused, wrinkling his nose. "Oh, are you going to wear underwear?"

"It's either none or yesterdays'," Bif said. He was not going to go run half-naked through Harrington House to his room just to get some briefs.

Derby made a face. "You're putting on yesterdays', I assume."

Bif sighed, looking over his shoulder at Derby. "Does it really matter? It's not like certain parts haven't _touched _before, if you understand what I mean."

"No, but I still mind…" Bif turned around, smiling boyishly with his hands on his hips. Derby couldn't help but stare at him in only a dress shirt, his protests trailing off. "… If you must." he mumbled reluctantly, giving into his charms. Bif smiled. He was unusually stubborn today.

"Thank you," he said, turning back to Derby's dresser. He started to hum tunelessly, and Derby watched him dress quietly. Other than the sound of the tree branch outside, and Bif's off-key humming, the room was relatively quiet. Derby stretched in his bed.

"So, I suppose you're not mad at me anymore?" Derby asked softly. "This is all… over?" It was almost instant, how the air grew heavy, and Bif quietly fumbled to pull his pants on, not looking over at Derby.

"I was never mad at you, Derby," he said slowly, buttoning his pants, and turning around. "And, no, this really isn't over yet. There are some things that need to happen before either of us can start trying to forgive."

"Forgive?" It was an awkward word on his lips, and tumbled out clumsily. Bif rubbed the back of his neck.

"As in, me forgiving you of what you've done to me," he said slowly. Derby's eyes narrowed.

"What have I done to you?"

Bif pulled a sweater over his shirt. "Derby…" His voice was dangerously low, and Derby crooked an eyebrow at him. What was he getting his pants in a bunch for? "You're not... serious, are you?"

"Don't give me that. What have I done to you? Nothing worth mentioning."

"If you're serious, Derby, then-" Bif was flustered, nearly grinding his teeth in frustration. He took a deep breath, shaking his head. When he opened his eyes, he seemed calmer. "You called me a tool, Derby. And you've been pushing me away for the past week."

"You know I didn't mean any of that," Derby said. Bif couldn't meet his eyes, just stared off as he pulled a belt around his waist. Derby sighed, "I didn't mean anything I said. It was all out of anger."

"You could have fooled me," he said quietly. Derby got up out of bed, walking over towards the dresser. He started to pull out his clothes.

"What," He took out a pair of pants, made sure they weren't similar to the ones Bif was wearing, "Do you want me to say 'I'm sorry'?"

"I don't care if you say it. I only care if you mean it."

Derby rolled his eyes. "You're too deep in the morning… but, yes, I'm sorry. Didn't I already say that last night?"

Bif sighed, "It's nearly noon, you know…" He shook his head. "Never mind. We can talk about this later."

Derby tugged on his pants and slipped into a pair of shoes. As he neared the door, he stopped, staring at the trash bin he had upset last night when he busted into the room. There was something… odd about it. Bif noticed his peculiar stare, and he sighed and straightened the empty waste bin himself, placing it behind the door again. "If you really had wanted me to put the trash can back, you could have just asked."

"That wasn't it…" he said thoughtfully, but shrugged. There were bigger things to think of than an out-of-place piece of furniture. "But, thank you. Now, let's go downstairs," he smirked, smoothing out his shirt and raking a hand through his hair. "And let's make a nice entrance."

* * *

The couch was crowded today. It seated four: Chad, Gord, Parker, and Tad. Gord was in his usual spot, perched right near the end. Tad was wedged between him and Chad - who didn't look that pleased sitting next to him- and Parker was for once comfortable, having the control of the remote control _and_ a good distance away from Gord and his grabby hands.

"Hey, Gord, do you know what the worst part of being a Spencer is?"

Gord leaned back into the couch. "What?"

"Nothing!" Tad yelled out, grinning and laughing. Chad, Parker, and Gord all joined in, though it turned tensed and keeled off into a nervous chuckle as both Derby and Bif entered the room. The trio looked at each other uneasily, but Tad gave Derby and Bif a smug, knowing smirk, looking back over at his newfound friends on the couch.

Derby's eyes narrowed. "Good morning, Spencer."

Tad didn't turn around. "So, Gord, what are we watching?"

Gord looked uneasy, and his eyes flickered nervously to Derby and Bif, then back again. "Uhnn… It's called 'Splendiferous Lives of People Who Have More Money Than You'…" He could feel Derby's eyes burrowing into the back of his head. "And it's a reallygreatshow." He finished quickly.

"Oh, really?" Tad said, smiling airily. He was the only one who didn't look noticeably unnerved; he looked absolutely carefree. "Well, that sounds interesting-"

"Spencer, would you care to answer me?"

Tad smiled wider, and everybody looked away uneasily. Bif was just gaping from shock, and Derby silently fumed, taking a step forward.

"It's horribly _rude_ of you to ignore me."

Tad laughed, turning around to look at Derby. His eyes glinted dangerously, and the way he was lounging suggested that Derby had made a terrible mistake of getting out of bed this morning. "It's horribly rude of you to-"

"Oh, Chad!" Parker suddenly interrupted, nearly shouting. Both Derby and Tad looked over, and Parker blushed, not meeting their questioning gazes. "Have you seen the bulletin board lately? There's… a lot… of news up there," he stressed, his eyes flicking over to Derby and Bif.

Tad frowned. "Parker!" Preps and their reluctance to revolutionize. He would get nowhere if they kept sticking with Derby and ruining all of his fun. Parker looked away, and Chad leaned forward, almost shielding Parker from Tad's fierce gaze.

"Don't yell at him. All he was doing was trying to converse!"

"He was not! He was…"

Derby had already pulled Bif away, and they were walking at a fast, controlled walk - nearly a brisk jog - towards the foyer. Derby's jaw was set, and he looked straight ahead, pushing the double doors open. Bif trailed behind. He was a man on a mission, and woe to him if he accidentally stumbled into his path.

He was at the bulletin board, his eyes darting around voraciously. There was the usual rules list, curfew times, try-out times, and…

Bif peered over his shoulder as Derby's gaze quickly went to the two pieces of paper that were taped over the rest, sticking out like a sore thumb. He couldn't really see what it said, but one was handwritten in blocky, messy letters; and the other letter was crisp and clean.

"What does it say?" Bif asked. Derby whirled around, absolutely furious.

"What does it say!? Read it, you buffoon!" He pushed past the stunned prep, walking towards the other side of the room. He had his hands gripping at his hair, looking like he was about to tear it out. He let out a small growl, glaring intently at the wall as if about to attack it.

"Derby…" Bif mumbled, startled, before looking at the bulletin board.

* * *

'Harrington-

Look, we need to talk. There's'

(A big black, long box, where words were scribbled out and crossed over,)

'stuff we need to talk about. I mean that night. I'll pay any damages I did. And, I'll'

(A bunch of scribbled out words.)

'say some stuff that needs to be said. When we meet. You got to promise not to say anymore. I've heard some rumors, but people heard you and your,'

(More scribbled out words, though it was obvious that it said 'bitch'.)

'fruity friend Bif fighting. Hell, I think I even heard some stuff, and… well, you got to keep yourself contained. I don't care if everybody gets their hunches about you two butt-buddies being together, but I don't need what happened that night to get out.

Meet me at'

(There were more scribbles, solid and impossible to see through.)

'The place Tremblay met me a week ago, tomorrow, same time.

Johnny Vincent.'

* * *

The handwriting was clean and crisp on this paper, almost overbearingly flourishing. It was either a girl's handwriting, or a preppie's:

'As we all know, Derby Harrington has been acting odd lately. He fought against his best friend, has been acting strangely, and after the boxing match, we all heard what was said in there between Bif and Derby. Also, two very reliable sources have told me that Derby was flustered the other day over a certain greaser. I, of course, won't name names, but his name starts with a J. And ends with Vincent. And wrote his name on the bottom of the letter.

Well, sources close to the certain Greaser have told me that Harrington has been doing illicit things with him to try and start some sort of haphazard alliance with the Greasers.

This letter talks about one of the nights they were having an affair. Maybe it was simply talk- but from what happened at the Club the other day, that is not so. Everyone heard Tremblay squawking to Harrington, about love and other nonsense. From what we can infer, Derby was doing some bad things with Johnny, and Bif was not happy about that. The certain greaser also heard them, as he sent the letter a day later. Not wanting to deal with an enraged Tremblay, he decided to call the alliance off with Derby.

In short, Harrington tried to turn on us, and did some most unappealing things with the leader. If you don't believe me, just look at the letter. Doesn't that confirm your suspicions?'

* * *

Bif swore under his breath. This wasn't good. Not good at all. The whole student body was so easily swayed… it was why people like Derby Harrington and Gary Smith could gain power. The only real evidence Derby had against him was the handwritten letter from Johnny; the rest was all guesswork. Prettily written guesswork. That's all most people needed to point fingers. It reminded him all of Jerry from last year - though this was a lot more substantial than what Derby had come up with. Not good at all.

By the time Bif had finished reading, Derby had paced around the entire length of the foyer five times, gripping his hair tightly. When Bif turned around to say something, Derby had seated himself on the floor in the corner of the room next to a coat hanger, sitting with his legs tucked up against his body. His eyes were sort of distant, and Bif frowned, walking towards him.

"Derby?" His leader flinched, his blue eyes focusing on Bif. Derby closed his eyes, taking in a deep, shaky breath. "I…" Derby pushed his palms into his eyes, mumbling something under his breath. Bif stopped a few feet in front of him, looking awkward. "We can get through this. Remember last night, and… I said…" Derby obviously wasn't listening, because his palms dug a little harder into his eye sockets and his mumbling grew a little louder. His shoulders were hunched inward, and Bif knelt down beside him. "Derby…?"

Derby's lips froze, and he pulled his hands away from his eyes. They were hard, and had lost that anger that Bif had seen just a few seconds before. Now they were just dazed and slightly hopeless. Bif frowned, reaching out. He met no resistance, and Bif threaded his fingers with Derby's, who weakly gripped Bif's hand. Derby's eyes fluttered closed, and he took in a deep breath. Bif frowned, "It's not… It's not that bad. I mean, he didn't write the truth. We just need to tell them-"

Derby tore his hand away from Bif, his eyes snapping open. "Are you _insane?_ Tell them!" He let out a harsh, barking laugh, and Bif pulled away. "Ludicrous! Are you daft? The truth…" He pushed his hands into his eyes again, trying to will away the threatening tears. "The truth…"

"I think they would understand it, Derby, if you just told them the truth," Bif sighed, sitting down next to Derby. "The truth will set you free…" Bif offered weakly, and Derby laughed tersely, his lips curling into a small smile.

"Thank you, Mr. Galloway, you really are a touching, daft alcoholic," Derby said softly, and Bif laughed. Derby just shook his head and it hit the wall with a thump. They were quiet for a while, and Derby closed his eyes, trying to organize his thoughts in the silence. This was not good. Usually when forced onto his toes, Derby could think of something pretty quickly. Right now, he was grasping at straws.

"… I'll help you say it. I can fill in any details," Bif said, and Derby frowned.

"Bif, you would do good to just shut your mouth right now. I'm not in the mood for any positive nonsense." He opened his eyes, glaring at him. "If you noticed, this isn't a picture perfect world. The truth gets you nowhere."

"How can you say that after last night?" Bif asked, looking hurt, and Derby rolled his eyes, rubbing his temples. "I thought we talked-"

"This is different!" Derby yelled, livid, "This is not just our relationship, this is bigger than that! Do you know what would happen if Tad got control of all of this? My god, I'd look like a fool. I could never show my face around here again. Spencer… I'm better than a self-made peasant."

He was doing it again. Derby was pushing Bif away, and Bif frowned.

"You should go back in there," Derby finally said, his tone weary, "Spencer won't like it if you're out here, with _me_."

"Tad can go to hell," Bif said bluntly, "I'm not leaving you. I'm not-"

"Stop it!" Derby snapped, jerking his head up. He glared darkly at Bif. "I'm not thinking of what's in _your_ best interests right now, or for the sake of our 'relationship', as you said up in the bedroom. I'm thinking that if Spencer is kept waiting much longer, he may come out. I'd rather you take the brunt of the taunts for now, until I can accumulate some sort of counter attack…" He trailed off as Bif suddenly grasped his hand again. He tried to pull away, but Bif held on tightly.

"Get up. If you think I'm leaving you, than you're as crazy as Spencer." He stood, tugging Derby up, and Derby stood - confused. "I'm staying with you. Tad will more than likely berate you if you even set foot in the living room, so we ought to-"

Derby tugged his hand away from Bif, looking perplexed. "You're willing to bring yourself down with me?"

"I've already been threatened to be dropped before. I'm really not that frightened," Bif said softly.

Derby blinked slowly, still looking confused. "I don't… understand you. You're awfully odd." He shook his head slowly, though he was smiling. Bif would never know how grateful Derby was for him. "But, since you're so persistent, I don't care. We can trudge through the muck together."

Bif grinned, walking over towards the door. "That's the spirit! Why don't we go to the Club? We'll have plenty of time to think of how you're going to tell them-"

Derby's eyes went cold, and his mouth set into a firm line. "Something terribly incriminating about Spencer's mother, or maybe bring up his jawless brother," he finished for Bif, walking over to the bulletin board. He yanked both papers off, stuffing them into his pocket as he strode towards the door. "I'll find a way to work around this."

Bif's face fell. "You always do," he affirmed, pushing the door open. They both walked outside. It had grown windier, and thunder suddenly clapped through the sky, followed by a streak of lightning.

There was another loud boom, and suddenly the rain came down. Derby swore under his breath, and Bif just laughed softly, holding out his hands as if to catch the rain.

"You said we'd truck through the muck together. I guess that includes mud."

* * *

"What. The. Fuck."

Peanut ran a hand through his perfect hair, looking awkwardly over at a gaping Norton. Norton blinked, shaking his head, and tearing the photocopied letter off of the bulletin board in the auto shop. Yup. That was definitely Johnny Vincent's handwriting. They had all seen his handwriting before in those soppy love notes to Lola he would have them proofread. His handwriting looked like it came from a third-grader with only two fingers. Not very pretty, but unique; it was definitely his handwriting.

"I still don't think it's his," Peanut said defensively. He liked to think of it as some sort of prep magic trick, where they took his handwriting and scrambled the letters all out to concoct this fake letter. Johnny couldn't be… no. Not with Derby. Not with anybody, except Lola - and Lola didn't count in Peanut's mind. He ran another nervous hand through his hair. "I mean, why would Johnny want to make an alliance? He knows we're the best, they'd just drag us down."

"I don't know _why_," Norton said, tapping the paper with the back of his large hand. "All I know is that he _tried_. That's…"

"But… you read the rest! Then he made the right choice, and told Derby to fuck off!"

Norton furrowed his brows. "I thought you said he didn't do it in the first place…"

Peanut flustered. "I-it… I meant, if he did write it, see, he tried to make up for his mistakes…" he trailed off as the door banged open and in came Johnny, looking sweaty and out of breath.

"Man, have you two been outside lately? Those clouds and wind from last night are really pickin' up, I think it's gonna storm. " His hair was immaculate, and he took a fine-toothed comb from his pocket, running it through his hair. "I tried to get over here from my house as fast as possible so I wouldn't get stuck in the rain. Don't want to mess up the hair, y'know?" He was oddly talkative today, and Peanut would have chimed in if Norton didn't take a bold step towards Johnny, letter in his hand.

Johnny eyed the letter, his face turning confused as he quickly snatched it from Norton. It was a split second, and he ripped the paper in half. "Who the hell gave this to you?!" he snapped, stepping forward. Even though Norton dwarfed Johnny, he stumbled backwards.

"It was on the bulletin board…" He jerked back at it with his thumb, and Johnny ran over to it, pushing Peanut out of the way. "Along with an explanation of what you've been up to, Johnny. You could have told us."

Johnny ripped the second letter from the board, tearing it into two. "Bullshit!" He ripped it again. "That's what I call! Bullshit! None of this… this is all fake!" The paper turned to confetti in his hands, and Peanut backed away from his enraged boss.

"Johnny… Who do you think-"

He whirled on Peanut, jabbing a finger into his chest. "It was those damn preppies!" He had _told_ Derby to be quiet and watch his mouth! And now look what he did! He yapped, and somebody wrote it down. Just great. "Those damn trust-fund brats! They did this to me… They always think they can mess with me! And now, everyone is gonna be laughin' at me, thinking I'm a fool…" He pulled away from Peanut, jamming his hands into his pockets. He pulled out his comb, running it through his hair a few times.

Norton straightened slightly. "Why don't we show those preps, then, that if they mess with us, we'll mess with them?"

"Yeah!" Peanut piped up, making a fist and punching his open hand. "We'll take 'em down, show that if you mess with the bull, you get the horns!"

Johnny grinned. He always had friends to back him up, one of the things Harrington didn't have. He'd show him what it _really_ felt like to get humiliated. "Nobody makes a fool outta Johnny Vincent." He tucked the brush into his pocket. "I guess we'll have to remind the fund fairies about that golden rule."

* * *

The walk was as pleasant as possible; which meant it really wasn't that pleasant because it was in the pouring rain. And of course, neither of them wanted to go back inside for umbrellas because _that_ meant passing Tad Spencer. So they walked through the rain. Bif jokingly offered to mug a few jocks for an umbrella, but Derby politely declined. He was so anti-talkative that Bif filled in his usual, bossy chattiness with his own ramblings.

"So, I guess those storm clouds from last night finally accumulated up enough," His auburn hair was flattened against his head, water dripping down. The rain was pretty hard, but thankfully it was still fairly easy to see through. Bullworth Town did not have a history of good drivers. He scuffed the back of his shoes against the pavement, watching as water drained through the sewage system. "And, here they are. At least the wind died down, but," Thunder rumbled threateningly, though Derby took no notice of it. "This thunder and lightning isn't any better. I'd rather have whipping rain… well, maybe not, I'm already soaked - but rain like that really soaks you to the bone, and these clothes-"

"Would you shut it!" Derby snapped. Bif made an odd noise in the back of his throat, closing his mouth quickly. Derby sighed, stuffing his hands into his pockets. "I'm trying to think. I need all the time I can get."

"Sorry…" Bif mumbled, watching the sky streak with lightning. "At least we're close." They had just stepped off the bridge, and the Club was in running distance. Derby made no motion that he wanted to run, though, so Bif stayed at his side.

"Hmm…" Was his only reply. Bif pushed his hands into his pockets, watching his shoes as they walked through the rain. Mud caked the bottom, and thunder rumbled overhead. It was surreal; when had they become the ones to trudge through rain, scampering away to a safe house so they could lick their wounds? It was so incredibly bizarre.

"Bif," Derby said, and Bif looked up. There was a pensive look on Derby's face as he focused on the slowly nearing Glass Jaw Club. "Do you think I can outsmart Spencer?"

"Of course," Bif said, much too quietly, jumping slightly as thunder clapped through the sky. He pushed some wet strands of hair out of his eyes. "I wouldn't be here with you if I didn't think that." They crossed the street hurriedly, finally reaching the Club. They huddled under the arch, and Bif started to pull the doors open when Derby grabbed his shoulder.

"Really?" he asked, sounding unsure.

Bif blinked. "Actually… no, not really," Derby pulled back, his face falling. He looked like he was about to yell, but Bif finished his sentence. "Even if I didn't believe you would, I'd still be with you." He pushed the doors open, walking inside. Derby blinked back the water that fell into his eyes, staring puzzled at the door.

Bif suddenly pushed the doors back open, sticking his head out. "Are you coming in? I need you to tell me where the thermostat is, it's freezing in here."

Derby blinked. "Of course," He followed him inside, and the doors swung closed.

Peanut smiled under his umbrella, strolling back towards the bridge. _Nobody_ made a fool out of Johnny Vincent.

* * *

Sorry this took so long!

ONE MORE! Are you excited? As a warning, it's going to take forever to write the last chapter. It's massive. It's already around… five thousand words, and not even a quarter done. D; So help me, I'm going to finish it before the moth is out... (I hope..)

Thanks for reviewing, everybody! Especially you, Mr. King Gary Smith, yelling at me to give you more like a reject Brittany Spears. Seriously, I love you guys. ;D


	10. The Beginning

The Price of Face

Chapter 10: The Beginning

Warnings: Very long chapter. (As in, 11,000 words.)

Much love to my beta, Airenko. This story would be a mess without her.

* * *

"See," Johnny paused, shifting over to the left so that his body was completely out of the rain. Peanut shuffled over, frowning as his whole right side stuck out in the rain from under the umbrella. Though, Johnny didn't seem to notice as he pulled out a pack of cigarettes. He tapped them lightly against the palm of his hand, tugging one out, and sticking it in between his lips. He offered the open pack to Peanut, and he nearly dropped the umbrella as he tried to grab one. Johnny put the pack of Marlboros back into his pocket, pulling out a hotrod shaped Zippo. After a few times, he lit his cigarette, then Peanut's, taking a puff as he tucked the lighter back into his coat. "People have very obvious places in life, Peanut, " Johnny continued, the cancer stick hanging from his lips. He looked over at Peanut whose extremely greasy hair seemed to repel all of the waterThe rest of him wasn't fairing as well as he was soaked though, shivering in the cold. Johnny smiled. "Ya can't be a pimp and a prostitute too," he said, and Peanut nodded fervently. "There's no such thing as a leader who follows, or a follower who leads. It's one of the other."

"So, that means you're a pimp, Johnny?" Peanut asked, then flushed and added quickly: "I mean, a leader. Yeah, you're a leader…"

"Yeah, I am." Johnny nearly added, 'So, that means you're a prostitute, Peanut?' -but he kept his mouth shut. Poor Peanut was looking as meek as it was right now, soaked from the rain. He could only rag on his friend so much. Peanut nodded in understanding, blowing the smoke out through his nose so that he could focus his hands on holding the umbrella. He watched the smoke barely travel before it got engulfed in rain. Lightning suddenly streaked through the sky, followed by a roar of thunder, and Peanut yelped in surprise, the cig falling from his mouth.

Johnny sighed, shaking his head; and Peanut gazed down at it like a sad puppy, reluctantly putting it out with his heel. "You said more were coming, right?" he asked, motioning downward towards the boxing club. Johnny peered over from the edge of the movie theatre roof, and Peanut moved the umbrella so that Johnny stayed dry. (Much to his delight, he got a brief soaking.)

Johnny straightened, nodding. "Yeah, I'm right as rain. You saw Harrington walk here, and through the rain, no less. Something's wrong." He looked over at Peanut, whose gaze was still on his sopping cigarette. Johnny sighed, plucking the cig from his own mouth and deftly handing it to Peanut. He brightened, and even though this was a ued cig and it was almost like he was _kissing_ Johnny Vincent- which he wasn't, of course, and would never like to do, of course. He took it thankfully, taking a deep drag of it. "Preppies are like sharks; he's leavin' a trail of blood and they're gonna sniff it right out real quick. They'll come. I'm sure of it."

Peanut sighed. He always believed in his boss; but the right side of his body was soaked, and he wasn't sure how much more his battered leather jacket could take. Almost as if it was a sign from God, over the bridge a form became visible. The figure was pedaling as fast as possible on a bright Aquaberry bike - and as it rapidly neared, Johnny's lips curled into a sneer. "Ha!" he snorted. "It's that no-show fairy Derby had to fight in place of!"

Chad was panting, his dark face drained of all color from his exertion. The bike wobbled in the rain, and the two greasers snickered when Chad nearly slipped.

Peanut smirked, tapping the ashes off of his cancer stick, and watching them float down as Chad's bike screeched to a halt in front of the Club. He jumped off of his bike, wheeling it over, and taking slight refuge under the awning of the club. Johnny snickered, motioning at Peanut to get his attention. "Watch this." he whispered, his eyes glinting. Peanut watched Johnny avidly as he turned his head to the side, clearing his throat loudly. The loogey he hocked was perfect, hitting Chad right in the eye. If thunder hadn't conveniently rumbled past, he probably would have heard the two greasers cackling above him. But, instead, he was ignorant of it all, cursing the rain, Tad Spencer, and Derby Harrington all in one.

Johnny and Peanut were laughing with glee, and by the time they were done, Chad had finally gotten the courage to venture inside. "See? Now, go get the guys from Coventry, and make sure they take the back ways. I don't want any of the preps seeing them. This plan's gotta go on without a hitch, understand?"

Peanut nodded, the umbrella bobbing slightly. Johnny suddenly plucked the cigarette from his mouth, taking a drag of it and smirking.

"Good," he said, watching as Peanut gaped and stammered nonsense at him over his stolen cig. "Leave me with the umbrella, and go."

"Al'ight, boss." Peanut sighed, handing Johnny the umbrella, and stepped out from under the partial sanctuary. Maybe Johnny _did _try to start an alliance with the preps. Maybe Johnny _did _donasty things with Derby. And maybe he didn't. Peanut would follow him to the end, anyway. He hunched his shoulders slightly as thunder rumbled by, walking towards the ladder.

* * *

The blinds were drawn tight, blocking off any light from coming through. The bar's only source of light was the small green desk lamp on the bar, and it threw erratic shadows over the floor. Bif and Derby were giants, the two wine glasses skyscrapers. Derby's face was stark with shadows, bringing out the seriousness of his expression. His face was blank, and he held the glass listlessly, taking a dainty sip of red wine. Bif downed his whole glass quickly, letting the bitter taste sting his tongue. He looked over at Derby, who still had that vacant expression on him.

"So…" Bif said softly, idly fingering the neck of his glass. Derby's eyes snapped into focus, and he frowned, irritated.

"What?" he snapped. There was a bang from downstairs, but it wasn't from the thunder; it was the sound of the big double doors closing as yet another person walked into the boxing club. Derby grit his teeth at the sound. Tad was building up reinforcements, an audience for the spectacle he would soon perform. Panic suddenly seized him at the thought, and he waved a dismissive hand at Bif, scoffing. "Stop bothering me, I still need to think-"

"It's been over an hour." Bif interjected, watching as Derby's face turned sour. "Don't you think it's time to realize that the truth needs to be said?"

Derby's eyes narrowed. "My, you've been very brash today. I don't think I particularly like this new streak of… traitorous ideas you're exhibiting."

"No!" Bif protested, eyes glowing wide and his hands flying up in a pacifying gesture. "Derby, you know I don't mean any harm. It's, well… you know, it would be so much better…"

"Easier said than done," Derby snarled bitterly, slamming his drink back. "You're a right _moron_, Tremblay." he added scathingly. Bif grimaced, gripping his glass tightly. It was difficult staying calm and ignoring the painful twang the arrow had caused in his heart - but he had to. If he lost his head, there would be no sense amongst them, as Derby had already succumbed to his emotions.

"You know it's the truth." There was empathy, but no pity in his voice. "I can't see everyone else knocking you down just for that." Derby's face darkened, and his head drooped slightly. Shadows covered his entire face, and Bif swallowed thickly, continuing, "Who would want Tad as a leader anyway? His great-grandfather was a construction worker for god's sake! Money doesn't buy class…"

"Or," Derby suddenly yelled, looking at Bif venomously. "I will be unfit as a human being in everyone's eyes because I was sodomized by Johnny Vincent!" Bif fell silent, looking away awkwardly. Derby - for lack of anything better to do - fumbled with the bottle of wine, pouring himself another glass. He inhaled the contents in one gulp, coughing and trying to ignore the tears that brimmed in the corner of his eyes that weren't entirely caused by things going down the wrong pipe. "It's so easy for you to say, Bif. It didn't happen to you! You weren't subjected to what I was!" The marks were gone but the wounds were still fresh. Could he do what he requested of Derby if he was in his place?

"Derby…"

"I'm not finished!" he growled, jumping out of his seat, and stalking over towards Bif. They were nose to nose, Bif on his tall barstool and Derby standing. "I… understand, to some degree, on what your train of thought is. But it's preposterous! The world isn't as perfect and innocent as you see it! It's not possible for me to be truthful- it's suicide, Bif!"

"I thought we agreed about this! You would get over all of this, and tell the truth!" Bif yelled loudly, gripping his seat tightly. Derby hadn't expected it, and he took a step back from the shock. Bif jumped down from his seat, pushing Derby back. "Or was last night nothing to you, Derby?! Is this all just one big scheme, one big battle to win the war of who gets to be captain of it all?"

"Bif, it's not-"

"Fuck it, then!" Bif had reduced to an animal, his eyes livid as he jumped down from his seat. He was taller than Derby, and for once it actually showed as their chests bumped and he pushed up against him. Derby stood his ground out of sheer shock as Bif loomed close to his face. "After all of this- after all I've done, all I've…!" He was flustered from his anger, barely able to spit out words. "You're a stubborn ass, Harrington!"

"Bif, listen to me, this is important! I can't just do this, you understand. It's not what we _do_."

"You don't care, do you?" The anger had deflated right out of Bif. It left him feeling achingly empty and depressed. "About… us…" Derby frowned, cupping Bif's face and tracing his thumb over his cheek.

"Bif…" That face… he gave Derby those sorrowful, sappy eyes, and Derby could almost feel the pang in his heart. Bif's hand covered Derby's, and he stroked his cheek. "Don't say that. I do." Bif's small smile lit up his entire face.

"So that means you'll tell them, right, Derby?" He curled his hand around Derby's, not noticing how it stilled and his fingers pressed slightly against his soft skin.

"I…" Derby smiled thinly. "I'll think about it, Bif, okay? I'll really think about it."

Bif's face changed suddenly, and he pulled away from Derby. "Think about it!" he cried incredulously, "We don't have any time left to think!"

"I told you, I'll think about it." Derby grunted.

"You said… you said…" His voice was quivering with anger.

Derby's eyes widened, finding his gaze suddenly on the door towards his left. His cheek was stinging, and it took him a few seconds before he let out a small yelp of pain, reaching up to touch his red face. He pressed his fingers against his cheek, looking over at Bif with shock. Bif just stood there, hand still raised, looking as shocked as Derby. He hadn't really known what had overcome him, but it was the sudden anger of it all, the realization that everything he had worked for was just a futile effort. Derby looked down at the floor, still trying to compute why in God's name his cheek was stinging - it obviously could not have been Bif Tremblay.

"… Bif…?"

Bif leaned forward suddenly, and Derby flinched, anticipating another blow. Bif let out a pitiful noise, wrapping his arms around Derby in a hug.

"I'm sorry… I…"

"It's alright…" he mumbled, feeling awkward in his tight grasp. "Can you do me a favor, Bif?" He felt the other's head nod against his shoulder, and Derby patted Bif's back "Just go down there and scope out what I'm going against, okay?" His voice was soft and placating.

Bif pulled away. "Alright…" He cast a forlorn look at Derby, who had sat back into his barstool, hand resting on his cheek. "You… know we can win with the truth, right? It's the only way-"

"Please," Derby closed his eyes, letting out a soft sigh. "Just do me that favor? Thank you." he said shortly, waving dismissively at Bif. Bif frowned, shaking his head, and turning towards the door.

"Of course…."

The double doors swung shut behind Bif.

* * *

"This is so terribly awkward." Gord said in hushed tones to Parker, leaning closer so that he could keep his voice down. Parker nodded, unconsciously leaning away as he looked out of the corner of his eye for Chad. Poor Chad had gotten dragged off by Tad to do some dirty work. Why always Chad? First it was Derby forcing Chad to dress for a fight he never even accomplished; and now Tad, to do God knows what. (And it was slightly insulting- even though Chad was a good friend, he wasn't the most _competent_ person.) Parker shifted uneasily on the uncomfortable weightlifting bench, turning back to Gord. Well, he would rather be with grabby Gord than with Spencer, or with the fallen duo upstairs.

"Yeah…" He looked over at the soda machine where Justin and Bryce stood. Justin seemed excited; maybe Tad had made a promise that he would look into a jock alliance? Parker frowned. "What do you think is going to happen?"

"What I think, or what I would like?" Gord asked. Parker gave him a half-hearted shrug, and Gord sighed. "Well, I'd rather have Derby and Bif to be the so-called leader. They know what they're doing. And, oh," He clasped his hands together, getting that look in his eyes that told Parker to scoot over. Unfortunately, the weightlifting benches were too small, and he would fall off if he did. "They're such a cute couple. I could just eat Bif up! He's too adorable, always doing everything for Derby. I bet Derby is the top. Or maybe he's the bottom. Oh! Wouldn't that make a perfect movie, a couple, one obviously dominant, the other submissive - but in bed, their roles are reversed, and the poor boy's dominant side fades to black when in the arms of his lo-"

"Gord!" Parker shouted, his face and ears bright red. Too much information. _Too much information_. (Where the hell was Chad?!) "Wh-what I meant to say… is…" He couldn't get the words out. The thought of Bif holding a woeful Derby right before they did the horizontal tango was sticking in his mind like a thorn. "What do you think will happen? Who's the most likely to win?"

"Oh." Gord looked a little disappointed, and he shrugged. "Tad. Not as interesting or romantic, but, he seems more responsible. He didn't try to make an alliance, and he wasn't doing naughty things with a greaser."

"You dated Lola Lombardi. Actually, if I'm not mistaken, you still go out with her sometimes…" Parker pointed out.

Gord smiled wryly, leaning forward. "We don't do naughty things, unless you call shopping with a girl who has sheer fashion _genius_ naughty." Parker gave him a blank stare, and Gord scoffed. "We don't do anything _bad_, you know. All we do is shop."

"Really? So… all she is, is a shopping pal?" Parker asked.

Gord nodded. "Basically. A rather demanding one, but she has fine taste."

Parker scoffed, waving his hand. "You shouldn't bother with her, she's a bloody greaser, for God's sake. I would go shopping with you, if you wished."

He knew he had said too much when Gord's eyes seemed to take on that sparkle, and he leaned forward, grasping Parker's arm. "Oh, really? You would?" He sounded like a child who had been promised a visit to the zoo. "I'd love that! We ought to go to Aquaberry tomorrow, then, just you and me! Chad can come along, if he wishes. They just came out with the new seasons ties, so you'll have to find me a nice one that matches my eyes-"

"Okay, okay!" Parker said, wincing slightly from Gord's vice grip. Though, he couldn't help but smile as Gord meekly pulled away from his arm. "I'll go shopping with you, alright?"

Gord beamed. "Wonderful!"

The front doors suddenly opened, and Chad staggered inside. He pushed the door to the foyer open, holding it as Tad walked in with his umbrella in tow. He shook it off, leaning it against the wall before walking through. The conversations fell to a hush as Chad turned to the door, locking both of them. Tad didn't want anybody disturbing the show.

Chad immediately sat down on the weightlifting bench next to Parker. He looked wet, a drowned puppy that had been pulled out of the river at the last second. Parker frowned. "So…?"

Chad shook his head wearily. "You… don't want to know." Gord raised a brow, but neither of them bothered him.

The room fell hushed as the doors opened from upstairs. Eyes were glued there, but it wasn't Harrington; Bif walked out, his hands trailing on the door as if reluctant to let it go. But he did, stuffing both hands into his pockets and seemingly oblivious to the stares as he took the steps down carefully, two at a time. When he finally looked up, his eyes were locked with Tad's.

Tad smiled. "Hello, my fellow elite!" He ignored Gord in the corner, who erupted into whispers, nearly pushing himself onto the frightened Parker. Tad walked over towards Bif who stood at the bottom of the stairs, looking slightly confused. "You left quite abruptly this morning." he said, his eyes swiveling over Bif's body. He tsked lightly, pinching the fabric of Bif's sleeve. "You should have come back in! Your clothes are damp."

Bif pulled away, frowning and tilting his head up. "We didn't need one." Tad stiffened slightly, taking a slight step forward. It startled Bif backward, and Tad smiled wider. The façade was endearing, but Tremblay was no leader.

"That's nice…" he said airily, a hand on his hip. Thunder rumbled in the background, and Tad looked over his shoulder. "Would you mind talking somewhere more private?"

Bif was suspicious, but he nodded. "Of course not."

Tad turned, motioning for Bif to follow. Bif ducked his head down so that Tad could talk without going over a whisper. "You see," They were walking towards the double doors. "I know how you feel about Harrington-"

Bif straightened, reeling back. "You know, Derby just wanted me to get him a soda, I think I'll-"

"Tremblay!" Tad barked, nearly grabbing the taller prep's collar. "Please, hear me out. I'm not here to preach or prosecute."

Bif reluctantly turned around. "…Fine." Derby had told him to come downstairs and scope out the threat. Maybe a personal talk with Tad could help him understand how he was going to approach everything, and send in the coup de grace against Derby.

Tad smiled. "Thank you. As I was saying, I know how you feel about Harrington. It's understandable, and frankly, I don't care. Gord can do whatever he wants, and so can you." He waved his hand dismissively, pausing to push the glass doors open into the foyer of the Club. They walked through it, and Tad made sure the door was closed completely before he started to talk again.

"I know you like him. Maybe… even more?" Tad ventured. Bif visibly shifted, looking away.

"No, I don't. I don't know what you mean; he's just a friend." His face said differently. Tad took a step forward, patting Bif's back. He flinched under Tad's touch.

"It's alright, Bif," He used his first name so endearingly, his tone so understanding, "You don't have to say anything; as I said, I don't want to prod, but no matter what you feel, I do understand what's happening."

Bif just nodded. Tad smiled, moving his hands off. "Love hurts, doesn't it?"

Bif shook his head. "I don't…"

"There he is… after he's humiliated you publicly, he's still not understanding, is he? Yelling and not letting you get a say in. I bet he's up there right now, planning my demise, and not taking your words into consideration at all, is he?" Tad fudged it all: the sincerity, the guesses. When Bif grimaced, his face fell. He thought he got it all wrong.

But then Bif closed his eyes, letting out a sad sigh, and opening them slowly. "He's always so stubborn…"

Tad nodded solemnly, though gleeful inside. "I understand..." He didn't understand the full scope of it all, but Bif seemed to react the most over the last part. So Derby wasn't listening to his subjects? A fatal mistake on any king's part… "I hate when people use you when it's convenient, but when it's not… you're nothing."

Bif shifted uncomfortably, hands jammed into his pockets as he looked at the ground. He didn't realize that Tad was leading him into a trap like last time, but he was too emotionally clouded for his head to work straight. "He knows that I'm right about what to do… but he won't admit it! He won't get over his fears…" He looked more melancholy; not noticing the way Tad's face was split in a Cheshire Cat grin. "He never listens to me…"

"Look," Tad hesitated for only a second, than very smoothly slipped his arm around Bif's shoulder in a comforting, friendly way. Bif looked up, surprised; but he didn't pull away. "I know how you feel… and I want you to realize, Bif, that even though some people don't appreciate you, I do. I see your talent. You're a bloody brilliant boxer, you're loyal," Easily manipulative, emotional, a tad clingy, naïve. "And I would choose you over anyone else to help me keep the clique under control." He squeezed Bif's shoulder for emphasize.

Bif blinked, taking a deep breath. That was a lot to take in all at once. The praise, then the offer; the offer of second-in-command. A back-up plan if everything fell through, if Derby couldn't get through his fears, and succumbed to Tad Spencer and his letter of lies. It was a wonderful offer. In most instances, the second-in-command suffered a fate almost worse than the leader- Chad was an exception, though his respect fell so much that it took a while before a few people could even bare to look at him. And Bif didn't know if he could take a severe fall as easily as Chad could.

Could he be next to Tad's side? What would Derby think?

No. If Derby lost, he probably would transfer schools. There were other boarding schools, ones where he could buy a new face to wear - a new and fresh person.

Tad watched him questioningly, trying to gauge his reaction. Bif bit his lip, looking over at Tad.

"I'll think about it. If things happen, well…"

Tad smiled, interrupting Bif. "Of course. I understand." He pulled away from Bif. They stood there, silent, before Tad gave him a small nod. "I'll leave you be. I need to talk to Chad about some things."

Bif nodded, rubbing the back of his neck. "I understand." Tad left him, hearing only snatches of conversation as the Plexiglas door of the foyer closed. A few of the preps gathered around him, talking as good-naturedly as preps do. His gaze switched to the doors leading up to the bar.

'_You're willing to bring yourself down with me?'_

'_This is not just our relationship, this is bigger _than_ that!'_

'_Don't… don't you walk away from me, Tremblay! I thought you cared about me!'_

'_You're my weakness, and you're my heart! You're everything I should despise, everything I should push away and defeat!'_

Bif felt his stomach twist into knots as he made his way back up the stairs.

* * *

Derby was startled out of his thoughts as the doors leading to the foyer opened at his left. He was about to ask why he came up that way, but Bif was on him too fast - hands grabbing his face, and lips brashly crushing against his. He was so _needy_, and Derby let out a small groan, leaning back in his chair as Bif's tongue thrust into his mouth. Derby's hands wrapped around Bif, settling onto his lower back and pulling him close as their tongues danced.

They finally parted to breath, and Derby had to duck his head away as Bif tried to almost immediately ensnare him in another kiss. "Bif!" His face was flushed, his hair out of place from the rough handling. "While I appreciate you trying to cheer me up, I really need to take the time to think-"

Bif was on his neck, sucking on his jaw, and kissing downwards - nipping gently so that he left oh so faint marks. "Don't think," he rasped, "Just… please?" His lips traveled back up, but Derby jerked his head away again.

"Bif, this is serious, we can't-"

Bif was fluid, sitting on Derby's lap, straddling him in the chair. He lifted slightly, grinding downwards, his arms around his neck. The friction made them both moan, and Bif gazed at Derby wantonly, leaning forward so that his lips brushed against his ear. "Please, Derby," Derby let out a short breath, feeling his pulse hitch as Bif's teeth hooked onto his earlobe, tugging. "While we're both still together, please…" He lifted slightly, rocking on Derby's lap, and he finally gave in, groaning, and pulled Bif in for a kiss.

"You're so dirty sometimes, Bif," he hissed when they broke, shivering as Bif's cool hands slipped under his shirt. If only Derby knew… Bif faked a quick smile, before trailing kisses up Derby's neck. "Nnn…" Derby's throat rumbled under his lips, and his hands ran over his body.

Bif was mapping the curves and feel of Derby; warm skin, the light outline of ribs, the blonde peach fuzz on his belly- Derby squirmed slightly, panting airily into his ear. Maybe he could feel it too; that tense feeling that this was the last show, the urgency of it all. Both sets of doors were unlocked, but they knew that they had all of the time in the world. They were locked out from the others only by their presence, because nobody wanted to be seen with the two ruined preppies. Bif grinded suddenly, getting goose bumps at Derby's sharp gasp. Maybe he knew, but only Bif knew that it was true, that this would be their last tango if Derby didn't make a miracle happen.

Bif didn't know if he could believe in miracles anymore.

Bif suddenly pulled his hands away, sliding off of Derby. He sat in his chair, his vest and shirt pushed up so that the lower half of him was exposed - his face flushed a light red. Bif made to undo his belt, but Derby pulled him up, towards his lips. They kissed, groaning into each other's mouth. Bif's eyes fluttered open.

He saw _Tad_.

He pulled away with a gasp, but of course it was just Derby Harrington. Just Derby, unknowing and ignorant of it all. Bif didn't realize he was frowning. Derby gave him a questioning look, but it faded to a smirk as he started to undo his belt. "That eager, Bif…? Not that I'm complaining,"

Bif grabbed his hand, sighing. "Look, Derby-"

Thunder rumbled overhead, so loud that they both jumped. Downstairs, there was a shriek, and a large bang. Both of the boys looked towards the door as the sound of yelling came from below. There was more banging. It sounded like someone was at the door. The conversations from the preps downstairs were loud and frightened, and Bif pulled away from Derby, smoothing out his hair as Derby looped his belt back into his pants and tucked his shirt in.

"What the hell…" Derby grumbled, irritated. The pounding was continuing, and then the sharp smack of something. Bif's eyes widened, and he ran towards the double doors of the bar. Derby frowned. "What's wrong?"

Another sharp smack. "Eggs!" He started to push the door open. Derby's eyes widened, and he ran towards Bif just as he was about to walk through the doors. "Derby-!"

"I need to go through first," he hissed softly, holding the door open so it wouldn't slam shut. "We need to be calm, it's-" Another bang, more wet smacks. "It's… do you think?" Bif grit his teeth, making a motion to push past Derby. Derby let out an audible growl, shoving him back. Before Bif could yell anything, Derby was out the door, and he followed quickly, cursing in his mind.

Derby took the stairs slowly, eyeing the crowd. Nobody noticed. Everyone was concentrated near the foyer, where the front doors had been locked. Somebody- something- was banging insistently on them. The wet smacks of eggs were heard from outside, and from there they could hear loud yells from outside - nasty jeers.

Tad was absolutely pale, staring at the door. The pounding relented for a second, and only the sound of rain was heard. Tad jerked the doors leading to the foyer open, staring at the outside doors as if they would explode at any second.

"Hey!" Somebody yelled from the other side of the doors. "Are you trust-fund fairies gonna come out, or are we gonna haffta storm the castle?" There was a chorus of laughs from the other side of the door. Gord let out a scandalized gasp, his hand flying up to his mouth.

"Dear god, the greasers-!"

Tad whirled suddenly, letting the doors to the foyer close. "Look, it doesn't matter," he said, struggling to keep his voice in check. Why him, why now? "They can't get in through those doors." He chuckled. "Not even Hal is husky enough to burst through them. They're solidly built."

Tad spoke a little too soon. There was a loud slam, as if something just broke, and the door buckled slightly. It didn't open, but it was obviously bending to the relentless pounding. It was going to come down soon if they kept it up.

"What do we do…?" Gord mumbled, before his eyes lit up. "Oh! I know, Chad, why don't you go out there as our ambassador, and try to calm those nasty paupers down?"

"Are you daft! Me, go out there?" Chad asked. Gord shrugged.

"You got an A from Galloway last quarter, so you have a way with words."

"I am not! That's a ridiculous notion!"

"Then what else are we supposed to do?"

Tad took a step forward. "Look, you two, we need-"

"Maybe you should go out, Gord. You certainly are quite close with the greasers, especially that Lola…"

Gord flushed. "She's different!" he said defensively, "And, if I'm not mistaken, she told me about a certain _someone_ asking her out on a date!"

Chad clenched his fists. "Why you-! I never!"

"You wanted to go out with _Lola Lombardi_?" Parker asked, incredulous. Chad grit his teeth.

"I… oh, I did not ask her!"

"You did too, you dirty liar! She told me when we were trying on shoes-"

"Everyone!" Derby's voice boomed through the club, accompanied by thunder crashing - his face lit up from the lightning. Bif tried to contain his smile as almost everyone jumped in surprise, and Gord let out a girly scream. They all turned to look at him; nobody had even noticed that he was in the room. It was like he had suddenly appeared in their time of need. "The Glass Jaw is under attack from the oil stains; the scum of the earth; the greasers." he continued. His words were emphasized by the dull sound of a few eggs cracking against the building outside. Derby was a terrific speaker; his words seemed thought out even though they were just coming off the top of his head. His voice was smooth, masculine and calming - he could sway anybody with that voice.

It was all a terrible cacophony in Tad's ears. He couldn't let them drink the poison. "And, we need-"

"Harrington! Are you really in a position to rally us into battle? It's you who has brought this predicament upon us!" Tad accused. The crowd collectively murmured their agreement. They had all seen the notes on the bulletin board. Derby had tried to make an alliance, and with the _greasers_ of all people. It made Justin's jock alliance proposal pale in comparison. "You," Tad pointed, then to Bif, "Both of you aren't even fit to _speak_ to us. The audacity you have…"

Derby bristled, and Bif nudged him slightly with his shoulder, trying to remind him to stay calm. "I did not start an alliance with the greasers. Why the hell would I-?"

"Why the hell does anybody do anything?" Tad interrupted, turning to the crowd. He was rallying them up. "I mean, Gord is having a fling with Lola Lombardi. We all flirt with danger," he made an exaggerated shrug, shaking his head as he chuckled. "But, there is a point where you take it too far. Especially when it endangers everyone…"

The crowd was against him, mumbling their approval with Tad. Derby looked downright murderous. "I did meet with Vincent, but I did not go with any intention whatsoever to start an alliance." he said suddenly. The crowd fell silent.

"Really? What _did_ happen, Derby?" Tad grinned. The way Derby flinched made his spirits soar. He had cornered a giant. "If it wasn't Johnny insisting to meet so that the alliance could be broken, then tell us what happened that night."

Derby froze, his eyes widening. "I… I can't say." Tad's smile widened, and thunder crashed from the heavens above.

"Interesting… Don't you think so?" He was speaking to the collective group, nobody in particular. They played their part as the majority, responding in affirmative mumbles. "Denying any sort of alliance, but refusing to tell us what you were there to do. I think that's incredibly suspicious." He took a step forward towards the crowd. "Frankly, Derby, I think you're lying. You did go there to make an alliance, and turn on all of us. Didn't you?"

"I…" Derby grit his teeth. Bif nudged him again, and Derby's hands balled into fists. "No! I did no such thing-"

"Then what! What did you do, Harrington! Did you meet the king of the slums for crumpets and tea?" The crowd giggled, and Derby's face flushed. Bif nudged him harder, trying to mask the look of worry on his face. He wasn't going to do it, was he? Derby was shaking slightly.

"No, I… How do you even know I met him! Maybe the letter is fake-"

"Then why in all God's name would greasers be pounding at our door if I didn't just air out someone's dirty laundry!" Tad countered, pointing back towards the double doors. Derby's face fell.

"I…" The crowd was silent. They were waiting. Derby had nothing to give.

"Derby…" Bif hissed under his breath. Tad's face was split into a wide grin. His face was a mix of emotions; relieved, happy. He had won. "Tell them the truth. You've got to…"

"No," he said. It was barely heard, his voice strained. "I can't, I can't."

Tad was staring expectantly at Bif. This was his cue. Tad had won, and this was the time to decide. He could be with the winners; or he could stay with Derby. Tad crossed his arms, tilting his head. _Well?_ Derby was trembling, grinding his teeth as the crowd mumbled.

It would be so easy to walk over to Tad's side. Derby's face would fall. It would change very quickly, from one extreme to another- surprise, anger, hurt, defeat. That would probably make Tad smug, because it took a lot to get under the skin of Harrington. Bif was one of those things. When he was by his side, Bif would calmly mention about something, maybe even something as meaningless as 'Oh, I agree with you, Tad.' He wouldn't need to say anymore. His eyes would say it all; _'I tired, I really did, but you couldn't do it. I can't fall with you. I can't. Not when I don't know- not when I'm not sure about your feelings. You understand?' _And Derby would continue to fight, but it lacked the luster it had before. It would be all desperate struggle, the flailing of a fish out of water. Tad would take him down quickly. There might even be a scuffle. But Derby would walk away in the end, head hanging.

How easy it would be.

Bif leaned forward slightly, ducking his head down. His breath was hot on Derby's ear. "Derby, you've got a choice." Bif's voice was so low, Derby was not sure it was even real. But he knew it was real by the way it wavered slightly at the end - a tinge of sadness. It was human, it was real. "You've got a choice. Tell them the truth," There was a slight pause, as Bif's eyes flickered over to Tad, then back towards Derby. His lips brushed his earlobe discreetly. "Or, I'm leaving."

Derby stiffened. Nobody noticed as Bif straightened himself out, looking away. Derby turned to look over his shoulder, incredulous, absolutely shocked. Bif gave him a sad look. "Bif…"

"What's the price of face, Derby? You decide." he whispered passively, looking away. Derby turned away from him, looking back towards his jury.

"So, Harrington, you never explained. Care to-"

"It started last week. On the night that the club was broken into," Derby interrupted, his face a cold monotone. Bif stared at Derby, his eyes wide, but he listened quietly. Tad grinned.

"Oho! So, did you two talk about alliances, and do some naughty things before he left you to get bothered by some public school twat?" he sneered.

"No," he was absolutely calm, focusing on some point beyond Tad's head. "Johnny was the one who ambushed me that night. Not a public school misfit." The crowd, including Tad, all fell silent, staring at him oddly. What did he just say? Derby turned his head, crossing his arms. "It was him, not a public school student. He did some things to me. I was caught off-guard, and he got the best of my…" He paused, making a disgusted face. "_Weakness_, and he beat me up."

There was silence. Derby waited for Tad's interjection, but there was none. Just stunned silence.

"Afterwards, I was a bit upset, you understand," he said, sounding bored. It was the only emotion he could really stand to show - any others would infer to some sort of weakness. "Bif and I fought, and a few days later, Vincent sent me a letter. The letter was about that night. He wanted to give me… money." He suddenly smiled. "For 'damages'. I declined, and we left. There was nothing to the meeting. That's it."

There was silence. Then, very slowly, Tad looked up at Derby. "Then, why have we not heard about this from Johnny? He usually likes to brag when he bests you."

Derby stiffened. The slight nudge from Bif's shoulder prompted him forward: "He did some nasty things to me. He didn't want any of the greasers to find out- especially Lola." He said it so simply, so bluntly, that it took a few seconds for the words to really sink in. Gord suddenly let out a gasp, nearly shouting out, but Parker clamped a firm hand over his mouth. "He's a bit upset now at you, Tad, for digging this up. He thinks that this might lead to the real discovery of what happened. That's why-"

He pointed towards the door, which was still being pounded on. It was buckling a bit more, giving into the greasers. "We're under attack."

Everybody started to talk at once. This was so _scandalous_! Better than an alliance; it was sodomy. They really didn't know how to act. Should they be in favor of Derby, who was truthful but weak? Or Tad, who was a liar and caused them all of these problems in the first place? Their voices grew louder, especially now since the pounding was getting louder - the eggs and thunder not helping much.

"Everyone!" Tad yelled, but nobody paid any mind. He frowned. "Everyone! Hello?"

"I think Spencer is a right arse!" Gord's voice rung through the crowd. "We now have to deal with greaser's because of all this! A good person should know when to keep dirty business hidden and when to let it out."

Tad glared "Excuse me?"

Nobody paid any mind. "Can you believe it? Johnny goes _that_ way?" Parker asked, astounded.

"Dirty greaser! I saw him leering at me in the locker room (Two words.), and I thought it was just because we hated each other's guts!" Justin snapped.

"Oh, poor Lola is going to be so upset when she finds out Vincent's like _that_. Maybe she'll officially dump him…"

"I _knew_ you asked her out, Chad!" Gord yelled shrilly.

Tad was twitching. "Hello?"

"Derby!" Bif barely kept his voice below a yell. He grabbed the back of Derby's shirt, tugging urgently. "You've got to get everyone to work together! The greasers-" There was a loud bang, followed by the clash of thunder. "They're going to bang the door down."

Derby turned around, grinning madly. "Not yet!" He leaned up so that he was closer to Bif, "Listen, Bif, just listen." He looked toward the bickering preps, and where Tad was vainly trying to organize them. "What do you hear, Bif? Just listen, and tell me, what you hear?"

Bif tried to find some words before numbly shaking his head. "Derby, look, I don't-"

"You're not listening." His smile was simply wicked. "Can't you hear it? It's a _cacophony_. An anarchic mess of music." He walked over to the judging table behind the ring, standing atop of it. Bif followed. "It's a symphony in disguise. All it needs is a conductor."

"Derby!" Tad was flustered, his eyes darting from him to the door like a cornered animal. How could he have done it? He dashed his whole plan, smashed it to bits, and here he was. How did he do it? Impossible! He wasn't supposed to lose! He had everything going for him… evidence, gossip, popular vote. What went wrong? Derby was just a rich, spoiled brat with a pretty voice. "Harrington, what the hell are you doing? Get down from there!"

Derby wasn't listening; he was looking down at everybody. It was a perfect mess. He knew how to fix it all, and there was nary a situation that could have given him a better way to prove his superiority. A perfect chaos waiting for a king. Bif had climbed onto the table next to him, and he looked over at his worried face, smiling. Yes, everything was perfect.

"Harrington, you-!" Tad yelled. There was a collective yell from people as the first double doors suddenly burst open, Norton and Hal tumbling through. All they needed to do was take down the Plexiglas doors, and they were through. All of the preps stopped in shock, just watching in a state of limbo. They stared at the greasers, and the greasers stared back.

"My fellow elite!" Derby's voice boomed through the room, accentuated by the crash of thunder, the sky lighting up. "As is obvious, our fine establishment is under siege, and we need to act quickly, and with perfection!" His eyes swiveled throughout the crowd. "Chad, Parker!" The two preps stood at attention, and Derby pointed at the ring. "There are a few cricket bats under there, hand them out. Gord, I want you to go upstairs," His hands pointed up, "There are cartons of eggs in the refrigerator. Bryce, Justin, I want you to stand at the foyer entrance doors of the bar. It's locked, and it would be a terribly stupid idea for the greasers to try and burst through - but you should keep guard until we're all outfitted. Tad, you're coming with Bif and I."

Everyone suddenly went into movement. The dull pounding of Norton and Hal at the doors was their tempo, and everyone did their assigned jobs. Tad stood, simply mesmerized as Derby hummed to himself, clasping his hands in front of his chest as he oversaw everyone with a pleasant smile on his face.

Where had he gone wrong?

When had Derby gone _right_?

A cricket bat was thrust hard into his chest, startling him back into reality. "Tad, would you wake up?!" Chad snapped. Derby and Bif were on the desk; he leaned forward, whispering something into Bif's ear. Bif smiled, giving Derby a quick kiss before jumping off the table. Derby looked back, noticing Tad's eyes on him, his smirk broadening.

He slipped gracefully off the table, walking over to him. Tad's face was flushed, his eyes wide. "You just..!"

"Just what?" Derby asked cockily, shrugging. "You're the only one who saw it." Chad rushed past him, and Derby grabbed his sleeve. "Go upstairs with the others, alright?"

Chad nodded, giving both Tad and him an odd look before running up. Derby waited quietly, gazing at his watch, and tapping his foot.

There was a sudden noise from the foyer, so loud that it rang through the mostly sound-proof room. Tad turned, gazing as a few of the preps had burst through the double-doors of the bar, running down. Hal and Norton stumbled backwards, yelling out in surprise, and then dashing out. The preps chased them, and Derby sighed airily. "I love rumbles…" he said offhandedly. He walked towards the door, unlocking it and pushing his way through.

Tad just stood there, looking sour, cricket bat limp in his hand. Derby looked back, smiling.

"Are you coming?"

He followed him out the door to the yells of a battle royal.

* * *

They rushed out all at once, initially driving back the greasers. It didn't last long. They were already adjusted to the rain, the darkness, and the thunder - and the preppies weren't. Johnny stood out in the middle of the rumble, a cigarette in his mouth, Peanut standing next to him with an umbrella. It was so utterly ridiculous, and Derby hated Johnny for being so confident in his win.

"Time to rumble, boys!" he yelled with a grin, and the greasers all suddenly yelled, rushing forward.

Derby shouted in surprise, narrowly missing the punch from an unknown greaser. He put up his fists, blocking the punches with his forearms. When the greaser relented, he struck out viciously, catching him in the gut. The greaser yelped, doubling over, and Derby pulled away. He had to find Bif, and he narrowly missed a punch from another greaser as he looked for that telltale auburn hair. It stuck out anywhere; he was so tall. "Bif! Bif-" He stopped as the wind was forced out of his lungs. Hal was carrying a two-by-four, wielding it like a club, and he had given Derby a harsh blow to the side. He barely managed not to fall, his ribs sore as he weakly put his fists up.

"Haha, you prissy little prick. Ya think you can block a board?" Hal jeered, taking another swing. Derby ducked, staggering forward as the board whooshed over his head. He twisted his torso to land a left uppercut, and his ribs bloomed into white-hot pain. He cried out, the punch falling short and not having half the impact it was meant to.

Hal fell back a little, nearly tumbling in the middle of Chad fighting Norton and Vance. Derby stumbled backward, looking around anxiously. Where was Bif?! He should have spotted him by now… what if he was already down? "Hah, huff… That was nuthin!" Hal straightened quickly, board still in hand. Derby grimaced. He couldn't take many of those hits again; especially wielded by that monster of a greaser. "C'mon, you pan-"

"Hah!" Bif grunted, appearing from behind the greaser, and swinging the cricket back downward with all his might. The sound Hal's thick head made when it met the wood was downright nasty, and Hal's eyes rolled into the back of his head as he fell hard against the ground. Bif was panting, leaning over slightly, the bat loose in his hands. Derby rushed over to him.

"Bif, you…" Bif looked up, smiling weakly. There was blood dripping down from a small gash in his head, though diluted from the rain that pelted on them.

"Sorry, I'm a little late."

"Bloody hell, your head!" Derby cried, eyes widening. Bif reached up, flinching when his hands collided with the sticky blood.

"Somebody has a slingshot… " He trailed off, straightening slightly, the cricket bat up. "Duck!"

Derby did as he was told, falling low. His hands scraped on the ground, and he looked up as a punch flew through the space that he had just been. Bif lunged forward, managing not to step on Derby as he whacked whatever greaser had tried to hit him. Derby turned around, straightening up. There was another greaser- Vance- that was approaching Bif from behind, and Derby ran towards him, striking wildly so he could just drive him back. "Bif-!"

Bif dodged a sloppy punch from Vance, watching as the greaser tumbled forward, and collided right into Gord. He turned to Derby, rain running down his face. "Come on! We need to get to Johnny-"

"You two!" They both turned. Tad's hair was plastered wildly onto his face, a cricket bat slung over his shoulder - there was egg dribbling down his shirt. He grinned, trotting forward, careful not to slip on the slick pavement.

"Spencer!" Derby hissed, lunging forward, and Bif quickly grabbed his arm.

"Not now! We're losing as it is, you don't need to help those oil slicks!" Bif whispered into his ear, watching Tad closely as he approached. Tad grinned, eyeing the two, lightning lighting his face up.

"Sorry to break up your make out session, old chap," He glared at Derby, "But-"

"Look!" Bif suddenly stepped forward in between the two. He was much taller than Tad, and he waved the bat at him. "We don't need this right now! We're going to go beat Vincent and Peanut, why don't you take care of Norton, he's one of our bigger-"

"DON'T-!" Tad's arm suddenly wheeled back, and he hit Bif - before he could even react - across the face. Bif crumpled like a sack of potatoes, crying out in pain. "TELL ME WHAT TO DO!"

Derby cried out, bending down, and sitting Bif up. His nose was crooked, pouring blood, and he wheezed, hacking hard. "What the fuck is wrong with you?" Derby snarled, standing. Bif groaned, hanging his head as blood dripped from his nose. Derby stepped around him, raising his fists. Tad just smirked in his face, the cricket bat over his shoulder. "We're on your side, Spencer!"

"My side!" Tad laughed, grinning savagely. "You know it better than anyone, Derby! We're preppies- it's every man for himself! Everybody was ready to abandon you; you and your god damn pompous ways. Nobody cares!" He stepped forward, swinging the bat. Derby jumped backwards, yelling as he slipped, and stumbled back onto his hands and knees. He scrambled up, narrowly avoiding Tad's foot. "If I manage to eliminate you out here before I take down the King of the slums over there with his pee-wee sized friend, then all the better!"

"You're a fool, Spencer!" Derby cried. "We need to work together on this! I'll be damned if we're taken down by a bunch of common scum-"

Derby stopped, having to duck as Tad wildly swung out with the cricket bat. "Work together… you realize Tremblay was this close in going against you?" He held up his hand, his finger a scarce hair apart. Derby glowered at him. "That close. If you wouldn't have given them that sap story… he would have been _mine,_" he hissed possessively, looking down at where Bif was still nursing a broken nose.

Derby lunged for Tad when he looked away, punching. He caught his face, jumping backwards quickly enough that he couldn't hit him with the bat. Tad cursed, pressing his free hand to his eye. "You're going to be sorry for that, Harrington!" Tad snarled, stalking forward. Derby backed up, but Tad was fast- he suddenly ran forward, feinting towards the left. He took it, and Tad suddenly veered to the right, jabbing the end of the bat into Derby's stomach. He wheezed, stopping, and Tad took the opportunity to knock Derby upside the head.

He crumpled; and Tad laughed, continuing on his way. Now they were gone, he had bigger fish to fry. He walked through the rain, a lightness to his step. All he needed to do was take down those two, and nobody would say anything! He grinned. What could they say against their savior, the person who took down Vincent where Derby could not? Up ahead was his prize. Johnny stood under the umbrella, smoking a cigarette with Peanut. He pushed through the fights, finally getting close enough that it caught Peanut's eye. The greaser frowned, eyes narrowing.

"Larry!" Tad yelled, flashing him a cocky grin. "Care to pull away from your boyfriend for a second to actually join the fight? Even the two lovebirds," And he jerked his thumb back to where Derby and Bif were, "Over there have gotten more punches in than you have."

Peanut's face turned bright red, along with his ears, and he took a step forward - shaking his fist at him. _Spencer_. If one person could get his blood boiling… "You little-! Come on, you stinkin' rich boy!"

Johnny frowned, grabbing Peanut's shoulder. "Look, Peanut, I know he's done some things to you, but don't you-" Johnny was cut off mid-sentence. Peanut had made up his mind, and he thrust the handle of the umbrella roughly into Johnny's chest. He spluttered indignantly, nearly dropping it as his bodyguard stalked forward, cracking his knuckles. Tad smirked, swinging his cricket bat idly through the air.

Peanut stopped abruptly in front of Tad, around six feet away. Those cricket bats were hard, and he knew that it would be no fair fight against him with one of those things. There was a piece of half-broken plank not far away, which he eyed. It was halfway the distance between him and Tad, and he lunged down for it. Tad laughed, kicking the piece far away where it skittered over the pavement.

"No, Larry, sorry," Peanut barely missed the swing from Tad, dropping to his stomach, and feeling the wood nick his ear. "I've got to take you out quickly, so I can get your dull-headed leader out for the count." Peanut yelled, rolling quickly away, and springing to his feet as Tad made another swing. He ran forward, taking a swing at Peanut, and catching the corner of his shoulder.

Peanut grit his teeth, suddenly putting his hands up. "Not this time, Spencer!" he yelled, his voice carrying over the clash of thunder. He spread his legs slightly, readying himself. Tad snorted. Did he think he could withstand a blow to the head? He swung with all of his might towards him.

Peanut growled, grabbing the cricket bat. He nearly fell over; Tad had realized what he was doing a split second before the bat hit his hands, and he was carrying the momentum - but Peanut wrenched it backwards, hard. Tad whined in pain, immediately dropping it as his wrists twisted in an odd angle. Peanut stumbled backwards, clutching the wide side of the bat. He flipped it around, wrapping his hands tightly around the handle. His face split into an odd grin, watching as Tad's face drained of color. He took a step backwards, but Peanut lashed out, smashing Tad in the ribs.

Tad let out a wheeze, bending slightly as he clutched his ribs; and Peanut took the opportunity to elbow Tad in the face. Tad reeled, leaning backwards and slipped on the slick ground. "How's that, Spencer?" He raised the bat, striking Tad in the face as he struggled to stand. "Who's the small on now, huh? Who's the Peanut now?" Tad let out a wheezing cry as Peanut landed another crushing blow against his torso.

There was suddenly someone on top of Peanut, hitting him in the side _hard,_ and tackling him away from Tad. He fell roughly onto the pavement, feeling his head crack onto the ground, and the cricket bat fly from his hands. It hurt, and he felt his mind spin and throb. He groaned, hand to his forehead as he felt the person on top of him shift slightly, looming over him. "Peanut!" That was Johnny's voice… Johnny… Peanut opened his eyes, managing to spot Bif's fist just as it was driven into his face.

"Fuck!" Peanut cried, grabbing his nose, and lashing out at Bif. Bif took a solid blow in the nose, and he growled in pain, grabbing Peanut's jacket. He jerked him up, landing another solid blow to Peanut's face.

Johnny was seething, glaring over at Derby, who was calmly watching the whole thing. He glanced over at Johnny, and his face split into that maddening smirk. "Sorry, Vincent, but you should have kept your dog on the prize," he teased, and Johnny grit his teeth.

He wanted a cigarette to try and block out the sound of Peanut's struggle with the prep on the slick pavement, something to help him ignore the pain. Derby could do it easily, but Bif was just his dog; Peanut was Johnny's friend. He adjusted his umbrella, taking out a pack of cigarettes. He lit one, looking over at Peanut and Bif before looking away. "You're a right bastard, Derby. You know he was gonna go after Spencer. He hates his guts."

"At least you're not that brainless," Derby said with a chuckle. "You should appreciate a good set-up when you see one."

Johnny frowned, blowing smoke out of his nose.

"God damn it!" Peanut was grappling with Bif, and they rolled over onto the hard ground - Peanut suddenly on top. He landed a few blows before Bif kicked upward, landing the money shot. Peanut wheezed, leaning forward, and Bif pushed him off. He straddled him again, punching the greaser a few times. Peanut yelled out in pain, his arms flailing out- his hand fell onto the cricket bat; and he grabbed it, quickly hitting Bif across the face.

Johnny grinned, watching as Derby's cocky demeanor suddenly fell as Bif fell backwards, yelling. "Oooh, that must've hurt, huh?" Peanut was on top of Bif, but Bif wasn't going to go down so easily; he growled, head-butting the other. Surprisingly, he connected hard enough with Peanut's chest that he fell back - the bat skidded out of reach. Johnny was absolutely enthralled with the match, his eyes on them both. He never saw Derby approach, and he certainly didn't expect the punch to his stomach.

Johnny yelled, reeling backwards, his cig falling to the ground. The umbrella clattered downward, and Derby scooped it up. Johnny was quick, though, and he regained from his stumbled by suddenly lunging forward, tackling Derby down. The umbrella fell from his grasp, sliding across the wet pavement.

They grappled for awhile, grunting and growling, rolling each other over. Johnny finally managed to get his arm free, and his knuckle aimed right for Derby's eye. Derby let out a pained cry, pulling off of Johnny.

"Asshole!" he panted, grabbing Derby and punching him again. "Made me waste my cig-"

Johnny was knocked off of Derby from a blow to his head. Bif wielded the bat like a golf club, and he snickered. "Bloody greasers don't know when to quit." He wiped a bit of blood that was trickling from his gashed lip. Derby sat up, grabbing Johnny roughly, and hauling him up.

"My tooth!" Johnny spat, blood dribbling from his mouth, bright red on his lips. "You knocked out my fucking tooth!"

Derby punched him again, and Johnny howled, trying to throw Derby off. But Derby suddenly twisted around Johnny, grabbing his arms and securing them behind his back.

Johnny grunted, trying to punch his way out of Derby's grip. But he held fast, wrenching Johnny's arms into a stronger hold. Johnny kicked backwards, narrowly missing Derby's groin - and instead hitting his thigh. He nearly tumbled over, but managed to stay standing. "You're gonna regret this, Harrington, you flouncing fuckin' fairy-"

Johnny's head snapped to the side from the strength of Bif's slap. Derby snickered, twisting both of Johnny's arms behind him securely in the moment of weakness.

"I hope you realize how incredibly imbecilic it was for you to do this," he hissed. Johnny growled, starting to struggle. Derby pulled his arms slightly, and Johnny's shoulders flared up in pain. Things definitely weren't supposed to bend that way, and he stopped.

"How'd you let any of this get out, you dumb prep?!" Johnny yelled indignantly. "I wouldn't have come if you didn't let this all out!"

Derby jerked Johnny's arm back, and he yelled. There was a small pop before Derby finally let his go back into a less compromising position. "They all know, Vincent. Everything. I told them."

Johnny's breath was haggard, "What! You… I'm goin' to kill you!" He started to struggle again, and Derby yelped in pain as Johnny stepped on his foot. His arms loosened slightly, and Johnny would have wriggled away if it weren't for Bif. The first punch driven into his stomach knocked his breath out, and the second gave Derby enough time to strengthen his hold on him.

Bif landed another blow into Johnny's soft stomach, enjoying the sound of his pained yells. "Vincent, you don't realize how long I've wanted to do this to you," Bif grunted, landing a few more punches. He stopped, letting Johnny catch his breath. He sagged slightly in Derby's arms, his chest heaving. Bif leaned forward, smirking. "You're going to really regret starting all of this," he hissed quietly. "For touching him,"

Johnny couldn't even spit back a reply before Bif started to pound mercilessly into Johnny. He struggled for a little, trying to avoid the hard punches to his body, but Derby held him firm, twisting his arms up in an agonizing way. "How do you like that, Bif!" Johnny cried out, tears springing in the corners of his eyes as Bif's fist connected with his side, then again to his stomach. "He's crying! You think he'll beg? Maybe like I did."

"I'm not a judge, Derby, and I don't wish to be," Bif growled, concentrating on the force behind his fists and the pain that he was doling out. "I'm only the executioner."

"St-stop!" Johnny wailed. Bif punched him squarely in the eye for that, giving him a few more body blows.

"Stop!"

Bif snarled. "Begging is going to get you nowhere, Vincent. I'm going to beat you until you're bleeding-"

"No," Chad yelled out. He was looking rather ragged, the front of his vest torn. "Stop! Listen!" They both stopped, and Derby dropped Johnny in surprise. He wheezed, falling to his hands and knees.

There was the sound of sirens. Bif stared at Derby, and the rumble suddenly stopped.

"Jesus Christ, it's the fuzz!" At that, everyone suddenly started to run. People dropped their weapons, and scattered towards bikes and stores as the cop car came into sight - sirens blaring. By the time they got there, there was nobody really left, save anyone who had gotten knocked out. Luckily, that only happened to a few people.

"Why, look at that. A bunch of those snot-nosed rich kids and greasy punks were at it again…" The one officer exclaimed, stepping out of his car. He walked over towards one of them, prodding the panting boy with his foot. "Hey! You alright?"

Johnny groaned, and promptly vomited all over the officer's shoe.

* * *

Derby gasped, his back arching. Sweat beaded on his skin, and he grit his teeth as he gripped the blankets, knuckles turning white. "No…" His breath came out in sharp pants, and he dug his heels into his mattress. "N-no…"

Bif groaned, rolling onto his side, his eyes fluttering open. It took him awhile to realize that Derby was the one making the sounds, and a little bit more that he was obviously distressed. "…Derby..?" Derby whined in his sleep, and Bif pulled close to him, wrapping his arms around him. Derby tensed, hissing, his eyes snapping open.

"Johnny…" Derby's breath caught in his throat. The arms around him weren't trying to hurt, and it wasn't Johnny's greasy hair, but Bif's soft auburn that was tickling his bare chest. Bif pressed a few wet kisses against him, yawning, and looking up at Derby. He was still half-asleep. Derby smiled slightly, his heart still pumping from the adrenaline of his nightmare. "Bif…"

"You had a nightmare…" Bif stated, yawning against his warm skin. "Are you alright now?" He shifted, wrapping an arm around Derby's waist, his legs tangling around the other's. The heaviness of Bif's body was strangely comforting.

Derby pet Bif's hair, struggling to get control of his breathing again. "Yes… I'm fine."

"Good," he mumbled against him, his cheek against Derby's heart. They both fell silent, and Derby continued to pet Bif's hair. Bif's breath played hot on his skin, and it eventually fell into a pattern. In. Out. In. Out. He placed a hand on Bif's back, tracing his shoulder blades, thumb sliding over the soft skin.

"Still having nightmares about that night… horrible…" he murmured to himself.

"You're still having nightmares?" Bif mumbled groggily, and Derby tensed. Well, he wasn't exactly asleep. Bif looked up, his eyes half-lidded.

"Yes, I am…" Derby said. Bif rubbed at his eyes, rolling himself fully on top of Derby, his chin resting on his chest. Derby grunted, frowning. "You're heavy…"

"Are you alright…? It's been a few weeks…"

Derby frowned more, looking away. "Yeah, I am. Just… forget it…"

"I'm sorry…" he said softly, pausing to yawn, "I shouldn't think of it as time, should I? It's not like it's going to go away just because it passes." Derby's eyes softened, and he looked down at Bif. "I just hope… the nightmares stop eventually."

"I do too…"

They fell quiet. Bif let out a small sigh. "Do you want to talk about it…?"

"I told you. It was about that night…" he mumbled offhandedly, and Bif pressed a few sloppy kisses against his chest, gently biting a nipple. Derby squirmed, flushing. "Bif-!"

"Tell me the whole thing," He said with a sleepy smile. Derby rolled his eyes, but the hard bite made him gasp, and swat at his head.

"Fine, fine! It started with us at the house, on the couch downstairs." Derby gave in, petting Bif's head. Bif murmured appreciatively, leaning into the touch. "Me and you, we were talking. I don't know what we were saying; I guess it doesn't really matter. But when I turned away, it wasn't your voice anymore, and you weren't saying what you were saying, but something…different. I looked back, and Johnny tackled me back against the couch." His hands tightened in Bif's hair. "And… he started…" He trailed off.

Bif frowned, sliding up Derby's body, and kissing his lips, silencing him efficiently. "That's enough. Let's just go to bed." He rolled off of Derby, lying next to him. Derby yawned.

"If you suppose…"

"Yes…" Bif snuggled up close, wrapping his arms around Derby. "I know I said you should always talk about these things, but… it's too late at night for you to be upset. Besides, I won't get to sleep if you're upset. And I've got a test tomorrow…"

Derby smiled, letting out a short laugh as he closed his eyes. Bif yawned, and Derby pulled him close, just enjoying his warmth in the cold room. They were melded together like puzzle pieces. Derby's hands were wrapped around Bif's torso, his thumb rubbing his ribs - his skin smooth under his touch. Bif shivered and mumbled, pressing his face into Derby's neck. Derby smiled softly, closing his eyes. It was odd, how such little motions could make him so happy.

"Good night, Derby," Bif murmured into his neck.

"Night, Bif…" He would give it all for him, give it all for this. The thing that meant the most to him cost the least; no need to buy it, no need to bully it with influence, no need to fight for it. It should have startled Derby to even think about it, but he was peacefully calm. "I love you…"

Bif pulled away from his neck, wide-eyed.

* * *

The end. Done! Finite! Thank you, everyone, for reading! Hope you enjoyed the show; I'll be here all week!

Since this is over, this would definitely be a good time to leave your last reviews, maybe add the story to your favorites list, since you loved it so much, right? ;D I'd love if people gave me ideas for my next story. Should it be slash? Prep-centric? Pete/Jimmy? Peanut/Johnny? Should I do a story with OCs?

…. I was kidding about the last part guys! Don't worry; I'm not that cool/horrible yet. ;D (Depending on your view on OCs, I personally think the latter.)

Again, thanks for reading!


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